Trails of the Force
by Innate Lymphoid Cell
Summary: A markedly different power awakens within Rean Schwarzer that day in the blizzard. He receives tutelage from a different master, and his destiny shall forevermore be altered. Yet power alone is insufficient, for the history of Zemuria is shrouded by ancient mysteries, some older than others. Can he cling to his beliefs when faced by spectres of Zemuria's dark past?
1. Chapter 1

**Wrote up some stuff for fun after having recently bought and been obsessed with Trails of Cold Steel 1 and 2, as well as Jedi: Fallen Order. As you might expect from these two universes interacting, things aren't going to be quite balanced. A friend has asked that I upload this even though it's very much just a cathartic writing experience during morning bus rides, without too much actual research put into their respective universes, so don't expect too much of this.**

**Haven't had the time (or money, for that matter) to play Trails in the Sky and the Crossbell arc or properly look up their plot details, so there will inevitably be some in-universe inconsistencies. If you do, for some reason, choose to read this, I'd like to ask that you refrain from spoilers. Thanks!**

* * *

The howling winds tore through the vast Eisengard mountain range, the heavy winter snowfall swept along in its wake. The air was cold – far colder than any nine-year-old boy could endure – but still he continued running.

In front of him was an endless sea of white snow, so thick that he could barely even make out the footprints from the path they'd taken. Behind him, yet another guttural roar whose volume dwarfed even the thundering footfalls of the monster at his back marked what was sure to be certain death.

Between freezing to death while lost in the unyielding blizzard and being torn limb from limb by fang and claw, he'd gladly choose the lesser of two evils.

"R- Rean!" By his side, his sister shouted desperately, yet her words were just barely audible amidst the harsh wind that grated at his ears. Her fear was practically palpable. "W- we can't –"

"Just a little further!" He tugged at Elise's arm, dragging her behind him, not daring to look back at the beast that hounded at their backs.

His legs were numb. Perhaps it was from the arctic winds rushing all around them, or from the sheer exhaustion that felt as though his legs would crumple at any moment. Perhaps it was the terror that still gripped at his heart, its rapid thumping matched only by the smacking of his feet against the snow as he sprinted as fast as he could away from the monster.

Perhaps it was all of them.

His legs were numb, but still he _moved._

He could just about make it out now. In the distance, faint orange glows from the torches and lamps of the town of Ymir were flickering in and out of his vision, masked by the thick curtain of snow still falling from above. He pushed himself to move faster, even as Elise continued screaming as the monster neared.

They were so _close_ now. Just a little further –

Suddenly, he felt a heavy impact against his side, and he instinctively let go of Elise, a sharp shriek tearing through the air. His vision turned white for an instant, just before his world turned upside down. Then again, and again, before he finally crashed heavily against the ground, sinking deep into the frigid snow.

The pain came a moment later.

_What –_

"REAN!"

_The monster. _He had to move. He had to protect Elise.

He tried to push himself up to his feet, his hands clawing desperately against the snow, but fatigued as he was he simply couldn't dislodge himself from the mound he lay trapped within.

"RUN!" he shouted instead. He couldn't let his sister die here. "RUN, ELISE!"

"But –"

Her protests were cut short at the monster finally paused in its chase, its prey cornered, savoring the final moments of its hunt. It stepped toward them on its two legs ever so slowly, its toothy maw stretched impossibly wide as it looked between Rean and his sister. She had fallen to the ground now, her knees finally giving way, and from where Rean lay in the snow he could just barely see the look of utter terror on her wide-eyed face.

It mirrored his own.

He was scared. No, he was _terrified. _There were probably other words far more suited to describe the dread running down his spine, but under these circumstances he didn't have the presence of mind to recall them.

The monster looked between the sibling pair – and that terror intensified.

It moved toward _Elise_, its expression never once changing.

"_NO!" _he shouted, desperately flailing his arms against the snow. When that again failed, he tried to throw _snowballs_ at the monster, but even as they pelted against its skin, it showed no sign of stopping its advance. "Elise, _RUN!"_

His words were lost to her. She didn't even speak, simply staring wordlessly at the beast as it towered over her.

It raised a claw, the darkness of its skin peeking through the snow that covered it. Its claws ended in sharp points, and Rean knew that they could easily tear flesh apart.

_No, Elise, please – _he thought desperately. Aidios above, let her live!

It should have been him. He should never have brought his sister out of the town to see just what lay in the mountain range. He had been warned repeatedly by his adoptive parents and the other villagers of Ymir.

Why hadn't he _listened?!_

He was scared. He was fearful. He knew Elise was about to die – oh, how could he have been so _stupid?! _– and him joining her right after.

Above all, though, he was _angry._

He hated how he'd dragged her sister into this. He was frustrated that he couldn't do anything against the beast, struggling fruitlessly in the snow while it advanced to his now-screaming sister. Slowly, it wrapped a hand tightly around her midsection, and time seemed to slow as it lowered its head down toward hers, mist trailing out of its wide maw.

He hated himself, hated the monster, hated his _weakness –_

-and in that instant, rage overcame dread, and _something _crystallised into being.

The chill that gripped at his heart abruptly morphed. The cold remained, yes, but now there was an almost unbearable heat to it. He paid it no mind. All that mattered now was getting Elise out of this alive. He would willingly sacrifice himself if it came down to it.

The flame yearned to be unleashed, to be let loose, and Rean obliged.

"LET HER _GO!"_

With that final word, he held his hands outward, glared hatefully at the monster, and _pushed_.

His world _exploded._

He could just barely make out the wave of force that had left a deep gouge in the snow in its wake, the creature flung away from himself and Elise, while Elise had been blasted aside, and though he only had the merest of glimpses he distinctly saw her that her eyes were wide with shock. Her body flew like a ragdoll through the air, rolling over a few times before lying motionless on the ground some distance away. He stood within a venerable crater in the ground, entire arge of snow propelled away from the epicenter of whatever force he'd unleashed.

He tried to make his way toward his sister, to do _anything _to make sure she was safe. He had many questions, but _nothing_ else mattered now.

He took one clumsy step. His vision blurred. He raised his legs once more, his feet trembling all the while. On the third, he fell over. The creeping darkness at the corners of his vision finally clouded over.

His last thoughts before unconsciousness claimed him were only of Elise.

-o-o-o-

He cursed once more as his internal systems fed yet more power to the heating lines that ran through his present chassis. The layer of frost that had built up melted near instantaneously, and he expelled the superheated water out from the spaces between his joints, steam hissing as it met the snow below.

Seriously, how had the world changed this much since he'd gone into hibernation?! The magnitude of snowfall that the blizzard brought could rival even the ice storms of Hoth!

PROXY sighed in annoyance. After the four thousand, two hundred and twenty-three Standard Galactic Years that had passed since he allowed his systems to enter hibernation, even the thorough self-repair mechanisms that had been meticulously installed into him by his creator couldn't correct for the weathering of his metallic skeleton that time had dealt.

It didn't matter that every part of him had been restored to a pristine state. After that long a period of rest, _anyone _would feel awkward in the realm of the living once more. Snow was hardly something he wanted to deal with at the moment.

Ah, the things he did for his master.

He liked to think that even if he wasn't beholden to his present primary directive, he would heed the final request that Starkiller had given him. He owed his only friend in the entire galaxy that much.

His circuits ran another logical pass of the information his sensors were feeding to him. Thank the Force that Darth Vader had thought to install sensors capable of detecting heat signatures emitted in the infra-red, otherwise he would no doubt be lost in the snow for hours. Starkiller's visions hadn't exactly been the most informative, as was par for Force Visions that were notorious among Jedi and Sith for their vagueness.

_Find the boy,_ his master had said. _Bring him to the Rogue Shadow._ _Teach him to harness his power._

It had seemed a much easier task all those years ago, when the land was green and fertile. When he'd piloted the _Rogue Shadow _back from the nearby asteroid belt after ending his hibernation, his sensors had indicated only a ninety-nine point five percent match with the records of the planet from when he and his master had chances upon it millennia ago. The similarity mostly stemmed from the fairly constant size and gravitational pull of the planet and its solar and galactic position; were it not for those, even his visual systems would have falsely determined this to be a different planet.

How in the Force's name had this world changed this much?!

Exactly twelve femtoseconds and that particular line of thought later, the analysis of the combined visual, audio, and tactile information fed by his systems was completed. A burst of kinetic energy had displaced a large amount of snow in a bearing of 12.4 degrees, 205.07 metres away, give or take an error range in the realm of 8 centimetres. It took another twenty-two nanoseconds to come up with a plan of action.

_Finally._ With a burst of speed, he fed more power to his legs, and allowed his locomotion subroutines to take him to exactly where the phenomenon had been approximated. A wave of amusement ran through his cognitive programming layer, and a wry smile spread across the face of the current form he'd chosen to take with his holographic systems. At least those long years of inactivity hadn't dulled his speed.

It took barely any time by biological standards (still an eternity to an advanced droid like himself, of course) for him to arrive at his destination. That smile spread as he caught visual confirmation of the boy. With his mop of black hair tinted with just a hint of blue peeking out from the snow that had been caught in it, alongside the approximate nine years of age his algorithms suggested (based on the feeding of the information his sensors conveyed unto him into an internal model of human biology), there was only a negligible chance that the boy could be anyone else other than the one Starkiller had seen in his visions.

Just as been foretold, he had made manifest his strong connection with the Force, if the crater he was currently lying in was any indication. Force Repulse would do that to his surroundings.

PROXY would have been impressed by the accuracy of the Force vision, but Starkiller had set a high bar with his previous achievements. The droid suspected that nothing much could top his master having defeated Darth Vader in single combat back on Kamino. In comparison, this just wasn't nearly as impressive.

He wasn't unaware of the fact that there was a large, yet-unknown creature that bore a vague resemblance to one of the Wampas of Hoth struggling within the snow, slowly pushing its powerful limbs against the ground in an effort to rise. He was also fully aware that there was a girl lying unconscious nearby, based on her breathing patterns and current heart rate.

"_Stay… away… from… Elise…"_

The words would have been barely audible to anyone else, but the working range of his auditory sensors was many orders of magnitude greater than a human's. He was mildly impressed. Even unconscious, the boy was still thinking only of fighting. He assumed that this '_Elise' _was the girl lying nearby.

Her temperature fell yet another point zero one degrees. Another twenty minutes and hypothermia was going to be a distinct possibility. The creature was now feebly standing on two legs, glaring warily at the newest arrival.

Best to get a move on, then.

Wordlessly, he ignited the lightsaber in his hand, leaping forward to finish off the creature. It didn't utter a sound as its body was neatly bisected in the axial plane from a single strike. Both halves crashed unceremoniously into the snow moments later.

Right, then. He considered his next plan of action.

He could take the boy, and leave the girl to freeze in the blizzard…

He hesitated. He had seen how Starkiller had fallen apart after Captain Juno Eclipse's death at the hands of Vader. This boy clearly valued the girl. His master's last directives were to ensure the boy learned to harness his power. Ergo –

Ah, blast whatever passed as a heart in the logical loops of his. His internal programming must really have been messed up by the years, if he had gone from a primary directive of training Galen Marek by any means necessary to now somehow being willing to rescue a lone girl from certain death. He sighed, bending over as he draped the girl over a shoulder, and then the boy over the other.

He changed his form once again, altering the holographic systems that had been inbuilt unto him. Smoothly, his appearance morphed from Galen Marek's own to an entirely nondescript one, a random entry within the entire classified Imperial database that had been installed into him by Vader.

It wasn't like Stormtrooper TR-5706 could take offense, anyway, given that he was more than likely dead after the four millennia that had passed in his inactivity. He would deposit the girl back to the town he had seen in his flyby on the _Shadow _earlier (stealthed, of course), and then he would take the boy to be trained.

He hoped the boy had what it took to master the Dark Side as his master had done during his servitude to Vader. Whether he would fully immerse himself in it, or stray away from the paths of both Jedi _and _Sith as Starkiller had done, still remained to be seen. Regardless, it hardly mattered to PROXY. His master's final orders didn't require such considerations.

It was simple – the boy so similar to Starkiller, clone of Galen Marek, would master the darkness within, or he would die. PROXY wouldn't hesitate to follow through with Starkiller's order to kill the boy if he failed in his training.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. In the final years of Starkiller's life, the Force vision he'd glimpsed had been the only thing driving him. After his defeat and sparing of Vader for interrogation by the Rebel Alliance following the mission on Kamino, Starkiller had been devastated when he had finally registered the fact that Juno Eclipse was dead.

Disgusted by both Empire and the newly-formed Rebel Alliance and filled with rage, he and PROXY had abandoned the galaxy to their fate. He had seen how _empty_ his master's eyes had been. He had simply keyed in a blind hyperspace jump – a suicide venture by all metrics – and pressed a single button.

When they'd stumbled upon an uncharted world, he had taken it as a sign from the Force that his torment was far from over, and the pair had silently settled down on the foreign planet.

Starkiller had never been the same after Kamino. He had been a shell of his former self, living day by day, slaying the monsters of this land without so much as blinking an eye whenever they had encroached upon their new home. It had only been the vision he'd glimpsed of a boy, cursed with the Dark Side and uncertain of his identify much like the clone of Galen Marek, that had brought a small fragment of the man that had been Starkiller back to himself.

For years, he had prepared for this exact moment, foretold for millennia in the making. His master had prepared recordings of lessons, of the ways of the Force, of Jedi and Sith, that the child that he had seen himself in would never suffer as he did; that he would be given the freedom that had never been shown to a clone raised for the sole purpose of assassination and betrayal. He had seen how the child's destiny would affect the world in either extreme, and he would make _sure _that the fate of Starkiller wouldn't befall the child.

How Vader must have been rolling in his grave, seeing how his secret apprentice had turned into a sentimental shell of a man. Even dead, Starkiller still continued his streak of defiance toward his former master.

The order had been given, and so PROXY would follow them. Time meant nothing to a droid, after all.

Of course, if the boy showed any sign of turning into another Vader, PROXY wouldn't allow the child to live. The galaxy didn't need another Dark Lord of the Sith. One had already cost Starkiller _everything._

Wordlessly, he trudged through the snow toward the lights in the distance, a child draped across each shoulder.

-o-o-o-

He heard the gnashing of teeth. He saw a spurt of crimson blood. There had been an ear-piercing scream, his sister –

"ELISE!" he shouted, heart beating rapidly, pushing himself up to a sitting position before he'd even had a chance to reorientate himself to his present whereabouts.

Belatedly, he remembered the injury he'd sustained when the monster had batted him aside, wincing at the burst of pain that was sure to follow –

-except there was none.

He blinked in confusion. He pressed a hand against his side, and sure enough there wasn't at all any pain in that action. He frowned. At the very least, he surely had broken a few ribs from the impact.

Mind slightly clearer now, he looked around at his present surroundings. This place didn't look like any of the buildings in Ymir. The floor below was made of a hard metal, cook to the touch. In fact, now that his mind had caught up with what he was seeing, _everything _in the room around him looked to be made of metal. On the ceiling, walls and even the floor, panels of what looked to be electrical lighting illuminated the entire room.

Where was he?

More importantly, where was _Elise_?

He rose to his feet, looking around warily. He had heard of places like these from his father, in industrial cities like Roer or military bases like Garrelia Fortress.

He couldn't currently be in any of those places, though, seeing as they were a long distance away from Ymir. The last thing he remembered was how he'd somehow forced the monster away from his sister. He remembered his fear and desperation, how he wanted to do anything to protect his only friend in Erebonia.

He had simply pushed, and then he'd somehow blasted the monster away…

Gingerly, he raised his hand toward his chest, idly pressing down on that series of scars that had been there for as long as he could remember, where he had felt that unfamiliar sensation welling within as he faced the monster. It had seemed as though he made use of its sweet promises of power back in the blizzard, but now its presence had dissipated.

Had it just been a figment of his imagination? Had it all just been a terrible nightmare? But that wouldn't explain –

There was the sound of the hissing of gas, and Rean turned sharply toward the sound, his mind on high alert. He fell into a clumsy stance, one he'd seen his father practicing, even though he hadn't yet learned the proper forms of the combat style. If his kidnapper was here, and if he'd done anything to harm Elise…

What he had assumed to be part of the room's metal wall turned out to be a door, opening from ground to ceiling. A figure stepped inside, and Rean immediately lunged at him, swinging his fists wildly.

"Where is my _sister_?!"

Each fist was enclosed by his kidnapper's palms almost immediately, and before he could even begin to struggle, Rean was sent tumbling to the metallic floor below, thrown about his own centre of mass by his assailant.

"Well, I see that you are awake." A disembodied voice reached his ears as he lay on the ground, his vision blurred, yet he still quickly rose to his feet. "I imagine that you have many questions."

Rean didn't let his guard down, holding his fists before himself as he'd seen his father do. He shook his head, willing his vision to clear. The man's face came into focus – a young man in his early twenties, rugged features adorning his face, with short shaved hair and a warrior's physique.

Rean knew he didn't stand a chance against him, but he wouldn't go down without a fight.

"Where is my sister?" he repeated as threateningly as he could.

"Oh, quit with the posturing and relax, kid." The man rolled his eyes, looking around nonchalantly. "I was going to explain everything before you attacked me."

"You _kidnapped_ me!"

"Huh. That statement _is _factually true," the man mused, tilting his head slightly to one side. "I do suppose that could lead to some misunderstanding."

"What misunderstanding?!" Rean retorted angrily. Who _was _this man? "If you've done anything to Elise –"

"Like I said, child, relax," he interrupted, stepping closer. Rean met his gaze challengingly, and he was proud to say he only flinched a little when he realised just how much his kidnapper towered over him. He sighed. "I suspect this will be much easier if we begin with what you remember."

Rean looked at him unwaveringly, even as he recalled the events of what felt only like moments ago. "I took Elise out to play in the snow… the storm got heavier, and we got lost in the blizzard, then the monster came and…" he recounted, scrunching his eyes as he drew on his memory. "We ran… I got hit by the monster, and it was about to kill Elise when I did…"

He paused, uncertain of what it _was_ that had transpired.

"Yes?" his kidnapper prompted curiously.

"I felt _angry,_" Rean said, uncertain of how to phrase it. "I wanted the monster to stay away from Elise, and I…"

His voice trailed off, and he looked at the man uneasily. He had openly admitted to having kidnapped Rean, but thus far he hadn't made any threatening moves. Was he to be used as a bargaining chip against his father, Baron Schwarzer? Was he going to be a burden to his adoptive family, yet again?

"I see," the man mused. "Master's visions are truly terrifyingly accurate."

"Master?" Rean questioned immediately. He may just be a child, but he knew that there were other factions at play in the world outside Ymir. Father always said that the situation in Erebonia was unstable.

"Never mind that, for now," he dismissed. "We will get to that soon enough. For now, you will be pleased to know that I have taken it upon myself to slay the foul creature and return your sister to the establishment known as the Phoenix Wings."

"Elise is safe?" he followed up quickly. "You're sure?"

"The establishment owner went to retrieve a '_Baron Teo Schwarzer_' upon discovering her at his doorstep. I assume that is sufficient?"

He felt a burden lift from his chest. Thank Aidios that Elise was safe!

"Thank y–" he said automatically, before halting himself mid-sentence. He had no reason to believe the man's words just yet. His kidnapper raised an eyebrow in amusement.

If what he said was true, then Rean owed him greatly for having saved the lives of him and his sister. It didn't explain why he hadn't been returned to Ymir alongside his sister, though. This man had to have kidnapped him for a reason. Had he thought to leverage Rean's life as ransom, under the assumption that a male heir to the Schwarzer name was worth more than the daughter of the Baron?

If so, he was going to be sorely disappointed, Rean thought with only a slight amount of bitterness. Elise was his foster father's child more than he ever would be. At least he had repaid his family for having taken him in, allowing Elise to be reunited with them rather than having been killed from his own folly.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" he challenged.

"Ah, right. I haven't introduced myself, have I?" He smacked his forehead almost comically, a stark contrast to the intimidating figure he'd been moments before. "Brace yourself, kid."

As those words left his lips, a strange blue light cloaked around him, and Rean stepped back in alarm. What was –

He watched, transfixed, as the man's features _morphed_, and when at last the light faded there was only a metallic humanoid figure staring at him. A dull iron-looking material took the place of what should have been flesh, with what looked to be wires running along what was exposed of his head, neck and body. A hand was raised in greeting, unnaturally stiff in its movements.

"PROXY, at your service," the… _thing_ gave a mock bow, and his voice had changed to a coarse, oddly-pitched tone. "Prototype holodroid equipped with advanced hologram technology for the sole purposes of education, assassination, infiltration and subterfuge, not necessarily in that order."

Rean was proud to say that it only took several moments before he asked his next question.

"What _are _you?!"

"A droid?" The lights that took the place of what would have been eyes flickered rapidly, and Rean got the distinct impression of confusion from this _'PROXY'_.

"Robots? Androids? Mechanical beings with artificial intelligence?" PROXY tried. Then, his tone shifted into incredulity at Rean's continued lack of understanding. "Has your civilization still not created droids after _four thousand _years?"

"What are you even _talking_ about?" Rean asked, completely out of his depth. He knew that Reinford and Epstein Corporations created a great many inventions built from cutting-edge orbal technology, but he'd never heard of anything close to what PROXY was describing or demonstrating. Then again, Rean wasn't the most up-to-date in the field, only picking up what he could from the conversations of adults visiting his father.

"Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable." PROXY shook his head. "Four thousand years we've been gone, and this planet is still as backwater as it had been." Before Rean could even ask what _that_ meant, he waved the boy aside. "The explanation will have to wait. For now, I believe it best to answer your initial query."

"My initial query?"

"Why I have elected to kidnap you, as you so eloquently put it," the droid clarified dryly. Rean stiffened. "Thankfully, Master has recorded an explanation for this initial meeting. He certainly is far more adept at explanations than I am."

With that, he withdrew a small, cylindrical device from his waist, holding it in his hand. He pressed a single button, and a grainy blue-white image appeared in mid-air. Once again, Rean started in surprise.

"Hologram," PROXY pointed out before he could even begin to ask the question at the tip of his tongue. The word's meaning was lost to Rean. "A projection of a recording that Master had prepared," the droid clarified. "Not important right now. Listen."

The figure began to move, and Rean noted that he looked as though an older version of the man that PROXY had taken the form of earlier. The light stubble had grown into a beard, and his neatly trimmed facial hair had been allowed to grow out slightly. He seemed to be in his mid-forties now, an imposing figure all around, radiating a sense of power and yet calm.

"_If you are viewing this message, then PROXY must have done as I have requested," _he began saying, and though it was a mere recording Rean felt as though the man was peering into his very soul itself. "_Thanks, PROXY."_

Off to the side, Rean heard the droid snort. The recording continued. "_It likely also means that I have long-since died." _PROXY hunched over at that. Was this his Master? Were they close? "_I hope that PROXY has already given you an overview of events, but I will give a brief explanation in case he hasn't."_

Rean turned, looking at PROXY accusingly. The droid merely shrugged. His earlier animosity had been forgotten; for a kidnapper, PROXY didn't seem too bad. Besides, he was being strangely honest in his communications with Rean.

"_By the will of the Force, I have foreseen flashes of events to come millennia after I will have departed this world. I have seen you, a boy lost within the snow, fighting a foe more terrifying than any you have faced before. I have seen the rage within, the fear and the uncertainty. I have seen the power you wield and the potential you possess." _

Rean listened, hanging onto every word he said, each one resonating within him. How had he known his deepest thoughts? How could he have known that he doubted his place within the Schwarzer family?

What did he mean by having lived millennia ago? Was he a relic from the time before the Dark Ages? Surely that was impossible? And what was this Force he spoke of?

"_More than that, child, I have felt your struggles. You do not know of your own identity. Expectations have been placed upon you, but you do not fit the many moulds others see you as. You are lost – will _be _lost – struggling against both the power within and the pressures of others without."_

The words cut at him like knives. "How?" he breathed. "How do you know all of –"

"_You have questions, I imagine. The visions I foresaw do not give me the answers. All I saw through the Force was a boy, much like Galen Marek had been on Kashyyyk, gifted in the ways of the Force. I saw someone strong in the Dark Side, yet clinging to the ways of the Light, one with the potential to both doom and save his world." _In the hologram, the figure stepped forward, growing in size in the projection. "_I offer you the opportunity to train yourself in the ways of the Force – both the light _and _the dark, a chance I never received."_

There it was again. The _'Force_'. What was this person talking about?

The hologram flared brightly, and though he wasn't physical present Rean felt the cold touch of dread run down his spine. "_I say opportunity, but know that this arrangement is a mere courtesy. If you fail to master the Dark Side gnawing at you from within, or reject my offer of training, you will not be permitted to return home. I will not allow another Sith to run rampant through the galaxy."_

He couldn't return home? He whirled toward PROXY, the droid nodding in confirmation. Rean narrowed his eyes, facing back at the person in the recording who seemed both friend and enemy. If they thought to cage Rean in, they had another thing coming.

The face of the unseen and long-dead mastermind of his kidnapping softened slightly. "_I do not mean to be an enemy, but I will do what must be done. Know that I have tread upon the road you now walk. I know what it is like to not _know _who you are. I know how painful it is to fight to protect those you care for. Without proper training, the Dark Side will lash out at those you hold dear, as I'm sure you have already experienced."_

The Dark Side. An apt name for that frigid, yet unbearably hot sensation that had coursed through him. He distinctly remembered how Elise had been sent flying in the aftermath of what he had unleashed, and the guilt he felt intensified.

Abruptly, all thoughts of escape left his mind. He had hurt his sister, hurt his _family_, one that had taken him in when they didn't have a need to.

He clenched his fists tightly. _Never again. _Never again would those he loved suffer because of him.

"_Unlike you, I did not have such a choice. Galen Marek had been taken from his family on Kashyyyk, watching as Darth Vader slew his father before his very eyes, and raised as his secret Sith apprentice and assassin. I, Starkiller, was created as a mere clone, grown in a vat for the sole purpose of replacing him as the perfect apprentice. Trust me when I say that I understand how you feel."_

Rean didn't know any of what the man was saying. 'Sith'? A clone? He had no idea what they meant, but he understood that this '_Starkiller' _had been groomed to become an assassin against his will. In a strange way, he felt a sense of almost-pity for him.

"_If you choose to accept, then I will begin your education in the ways of the Force. As Starkiller, I have learned from both Jedi and Sith, but I stand as neither. I will teach you both the ways of Jedi and Sith, that you will not become a tool of others as _I_ had been. In these final years of my life, I have prepared a great many recordings in anticipation of your arrival. Master the darkness churning within, wield the calm strength of the light, and forge your own destiny. It will take a great many years, but if you desire to protect those you hold dear and act on the potential you hold, it would be wise to agree."_

The man paused. PROXY looked at him beadily, the orange lights of his eyes focused on him with unwavering intensity, and Rean felt compelled to reply.

"I…" he said, hesitating. He got the sense that this answer would change _everything. _He wouldn't be able to see his family for a long time, and his heart ached at the thought of being separated from them.

It was fortunate that the thought of harming them once more from the _'_Dark Side' he had accidentally unleashed weighed more heavily on his mind. Ultimately, there was only one choice he could make.

"I accept."

"Excellent!" PROXY chirped, breaking the sombre mood, and the hologram of Starkiller abruptly vanished. "A wise choice, apprentice! It would have been a shame to have to kill you!"

He had no idea whether the droid was kidding. It hardly mattered now, he supposed. If there was a chance to control this power that had already hurt his sister once, he would willingly grasp at it no matter what it took.

"Now that _that's_ all done, I suppose introductions are in order!" He heard a whirl of metallic parts as PROXY stretched, extending a hand toward Rean. "You already know me as PROXY – Prototype Ten – but Master's visions hadn't granted him a name for you."

Belatedly, Rean realised that he had, in fact, not yet introduced himself.

In his defense, he had been working under the impression that PROXY had been kidnapping him for influence over his father.

"Rean Schwarzer." He accepted the handshake. "What is a droid, anyway? Where am I? And what is the Force?"

"Explanation of the former will have to wait, alongside other aspects of your sorely-needed education." PROXY waved him aside. "Regarding your location: we are within Master's personal transport starship known as the _Rogue Shadow_, parked on the moon in orbit around your planet below."

Again, he didn't know what a starship was, but Rean did know enough to once again ascertain that the latter half of his statement was flatly impossible.

"We're on the moon," he said flatly, clearly disbelieving the droid. "Right."

PROXY shrugged. "See for yourself." He reached over to a control panel of some sort, pressing a few buttons, and one of the shutters that he had thought to be a wall opened.

Rean gaped at the sight before him.

_No way._

He most definitely had to be dreaming. Through the clear windows made of glass of some sort that had to be more durable than what he'd previously come across in his life, he could very clearly see the vast expanse of space stretching endlessly in every direction, stars scattered amidst the darkness. Nearby, far larger than any over celestial body, he saw the planet below, a green and blue sphere with scattered land masses, and even with his very rudimentary understanding of geography there were far more continents than he knew existed. One of the larger ones he recognised as Zemuria, but many more he had never seen or heard of before.

Even the most renowned of astronomers and astrologists of Erebonia had likely never experienced what he was currently seeing. For PROXY and Starkiller to have been capable of traveling through _space_, when by all accounts the pair had somehow arrived on this world even _before_ the Dark Ages…

It was a good thing he hadn't thought of escaping, then. He doubted there was any way he could return home without PROXY's help.

When at last it finally sank in that _yes,_ he was currently on the moon (as bizarre as that sounded), he looked back toward PROXY. The droid's 'mouth' was wide open, wires exposed underneath, and there was no mistaking that amused smirk on his face.

"Yes, I daresay that such a sight must be impressive to a fleshbag from a primitive society such as your own." PROXY nodded sagely. "As for the Force, Master Starkiller has prepared a lesson for you. I suggest that you get yourself comfortable."

Once again, a second projection began to play, and Rean eased into one of the chairs in the room.

"_If you are watching this, then you have accepted my offer of tutelage, just as the Force has willed it to be. I know not your name, apprentice, but you have made the right decision." _The holographic projection folded his arms, stepping forward. "_With that, we shall begin our first lesson in the subject of the Force."_

-o-o-o-

She buried herself deeper within the already-damp sheets, gripping them tightly around herself.

Five days.

It had been already been _five _days since she and Rean had ventured out of Ymir. Five days since her entire world turned upon itself.

She'd been unconscious for two of those days. Elise had been fast asleep, lying within the safety of her own home, while Rean was still lost in the blizzard. He had been hurt by the beast while protecting her, and yet _she _was the one who made it to safety, all while he could still be injured in the snow, or worse.

She remembered that look of rage she'd glimpsed on Rean's face, and that strange red mist that had surrounded him just before he'd rescued her when the monster had been about to kill her. As hard as she tried to remember of what happened next, she just couldn't recall how the beast had finally been slain. She didn't even remember being brought to the Phoenix Wings, having fainted some time after witnessing her brother's display of power and being inadvertently caught by what he'd done.

She was safe, while he was all alone in the blizzard, and that thought alone hurt her more than anything that monster could have dealt.

He could even be-

_No. _He couldn't be dead. She refused to believe that.

When she'd finally awoken in the safety of the Schwarzer estate, her parents had been beyond relieved, immediately tending to her as soon as she'd stirred. She saw the dark rings around their eyes, and the sorrow hidden underneath the joyful smiles they kept for her sake.

Rean was gone. He could have run ahead and left her behind, but he chose to stay with her. It was her fault that he was missing.

_Missing, or dead_, a voice in her head reminded her. Try as she might, it was impossible to block that dark line of thinking from intruding upon her thoughts.

The kind uncle over at the Phoenix Wings had ran to call for her father when they'd discovered her at their doorstep. They had sent out search parties as soon as she'd been brought home. During all that wasted time, there might have been a chance that Rean could have been saved.

Instead, they had merely found the body of the creature, its massive form split cleanly into two halves by a blade far sharper than any she had heard of before. She had heard her parents whispering between each other when they thought her to be asleep, discussing how the creature's flesh had been burnt where it had been cut.

Was Rean responsible for that? Had that red mist and the power he'd wielded allowed him to somehow slay the monster?

But in that case, where _was_ he?

Then there was the alternative, and one that she had heard her parents discussing and hoping for: some unknown party had rescued her, while taking Rean alongside them. Perhaps one of her family's enemies, or a jaeger corp operating within the region. Those were the optimistic scenarios, since she knew that her father would acquiesce to any demand if it meant that Rean could be reunited with them.

That hope faded when five days passed, and there was still not even so much as a whisper as to what happened to her brother.

She had been useless. She had merely been a burden weighing Rean down. If she was just a bit stronger, just the slightest bit _faster_, if she hadn't been so utterly _worthless –_

The door creaked open slowly, and she stilled within the fortress formed of thick blankets, feigning sleep. Alas, her trembling hands gave away her ruse, and try as she might there was no way she could stop the gasping hiccups from escaping her lips, her tears long since drained dry.

"Elise?" her mother's words were warm and kind, yet laced with worry. The bed sunk in slightly, a sign that she had come to sit by her side. "Darling? Is everything alright?"

"'m fine," she murmured from beneath the sheets, her words slurred. "Go away."

"My dearest daughter," she said slowly, and Elise felt a gentle hand press down against her. She stiffened. "Please, talk to us. You've barely left your room for the past three days. Everyone's worried about you."

She rolled over away from her mother, not saying a word. It shouldn't be for _her _that they worried over. They didn't understand –

"Elise –" her father spoke now.

"I said I'm _fine!_" She threw the blanket aside, bolting upright, glaring at her parents with red-tinged eyes. They recoiled, and Elise knew that she must have looked like a mess.

"You're _not _fine. Please, Elise –"

"What do you want me to say?" she interrupted her father before he could continue. "That I'm sad? That I'm angry?" She spoke with vitriol, directed more-so at herself than her parents and the circumstances that had led to all of this. All the pent-up emotions she'd kept bottled up released as though from a dam, made all the more turbulent by the whirlwind of uncertainty and fear they had faced over the past few days.

"Rean's _gone_. He's dead, and it's all my –"

She couldn't finish the sentence. She barely even registered the fact that she had acknowledged the significant likelihood that her brother was dead. The words caught in her throat. And she clenched her eyes shut tightly. She couldn't cry, not right now –

Strong, warm arms enveloped around her. A pair from each side, both her parents sitting next to her on the bed.

That broke the last of her resolve. The floodgates opened, and the tears and stream of words came anew.

She didn't even know what she said. She vented about the injustice of it all, at how everything was her fault, at how it wasn't fair that the world would take Rean away from them when he had protected her.

When at last there were no more words to say, when the tears had again dried, and only a heavy hollowness filled her heart, she opened her eyes. Mother and father were waiting patiently, still hugging her tightly, and she saw that they too had trails of tears on the sides of their faces.

For a long while, they simply say there, unmoving, basking in their joint sorrowful silence.

"It isn't fair that the world would take away those we love the most," her father finally agreed, after they broke away from their huddle. He looked more tired than Elise had ever seen him before. "Our family will never be the same without Rean. I know that I will never stop searching for him, as long as I still live."

Wordlessly, Mother placed a hand over his own, squeezing it supportively. Elise held onto the other. He continued to speak, voicing out what was clearly on their minds. "But we must learn to overcome this. We must rise above his loss. I'm sure that Rean would want us to remember him by all the good times we shared together."

His _loss_. They were beginning to accept it as truth, now.

Rean was gone, forever.

Rean was dead, because she was too weak and needed his protection. Her ineptitude cost her brother his life.

"Train me."

Two heads snapped toward her at those words. "What?"

"Train me," she repeated, glaring with determination at her father. "It's my fault that Rean is gone. I don't want to continue being weak."

Her parents exchanged glances. "Elise –"

"I want to learn how to fight," she interjected before her mother could dissuade her otherwise. Her mind was set. "I owe it to Rean."

Those words gave them both pause. Her father looked right into her eyes, and she returned his stare unflinchingly.

Finally, he relented. "I will teach you some of the basics," he said slowly. "It will be a difficult road."

"I can take it." She meant what she said. Rean's death wouldn't be in vain.

"Fine," her father said after seeing that she remained resolute. "I want one thing to be made clear, though. None of this is your fault. Don't _ever_ tell yourself that."

"Okay," she lied. She didn't know whether or not he believed her. "When do we begin?"

"I will begin your training from tomorrow. If you want to continue down this path, I will see if Master Ka-fai would be willing to take you as a student in the years to come."

Tomorrow. She knew her life would never return to how it had been before. She would make sure that this tragedy never repeated itself again.

Next time, _she _would be the protector. She would fight for Rean, for the both of them. When next they met, Aidios willing, she would make sure that he was proud of her.


	2. Chapter 2

He felt their presences as he knelt before the window. His eyes were closed, his mind fully concentrating on the task at hand, but he could picture every detail of the planet he slowly orbited around.

He saw within his mind's eye the town of Ymir, in all respects a rural village on the northern outskirts of Erebonia. A small smile graced his lips as he dwelled in the memory of those he had come to see as family despite not being related by blood, those who had loved him unconditionally even though he was not a true noble like them.

With those thoughts firmly embedded within, his mind and soul reached out, and he felt the vaguest of replies from those he held most dear, the tendrils that he'd extended coiled around theirs, for the lack of a better description.

There was still a lingering sense of… _pain_, but one that had dulled since his first time performing this exercise. Starkiller had claimed this to be a staple in learning to draw upon his connection with the Force, apparently a mystical ubiquitous power that bound all life together, an energy field that Rean just had the barest understanding of.

The first time he'd felt how much sorrow had been left by his departure when PROXY had found him two months before, he'd felt such an overwhelming desire to return home that he'd accidentally drawn upon the latent power within when PROXY had flatly refused his demands. He had lashed out blindly, his anger made manifest in the form of a storm of energy in the Force.

It hadn't done anything to PROXY, of course. His instructor had easily knocked him out within a matter of seconds.

When he'd finally reawakened, he'd been wracked by guilt at the lack of self-control he had over the Dark Side. If it had been anyone else other than PROXY, if it had been _Elise _or his parents, they could have been badly hurt from his actions. From then, he had firmly accepted the need to master this power before he could even consider returning home, as Starkiller had told him in their first meeting.

The sadness his family felt had lessened, somewhat. There was still a vague feeling of emptiness, but one that was slowly healing over. It was only a fuzzy feeling, but the anger, loss and frustration that stemmed from the light he'd come to view as Elise's had sharpened into a unique kind of focus. Whatever she was up to, he was glad that she had moved on.

They were better off without him, he reasoned. Even if he could grasp the ways of the Force, there was no certainty that he wouldn't bring them harm. He had learnt from Starkiller's own story of his life, where his skill with the lightsaber and mastery of the Force had ultimately led to the death of the only woman he ever loved on Kamino at the hands of his former master.

He reached out to them for just a moment longer, basking in the sensation they shared in the Force. Moments like these made his solitude with only a droid and the recordings of a long-dead former Sith assassin for company bearable.

He exhaled deeply, letting out a breath of air he wasn't aware he had been holding in. With that, his spectral self retreated, his focus returning to where he had been kneeling within the _Rogue Shadow._ A more talented Jedi or Sith could perform the same task with far greater ease, even in the midst of combat, but PROXY had assured him that his progress was admirable for someone at his stage of training.

"Done?" PROXY's voice came impatiently.

Rean nodded. "Yeah."

The droid gave a _tsk_ of disapproval as Rean returned to the main chamber within the starship, where most of his time had been spent on his new education regime. Here, he had been subject to tasks of all sorts, ranging from practical combat training and education in the ways of the Force to PROXY's lessons on galactic history (_I will not suffer my master's apprentice to be an uneducated bantha, _he had said) and even tasks as mundane as _eating._

He didn't even want to know where the food had come from. PROXY had merely explained it as originating from a _'food synthesiser_', but the eerie glow of his eyes and widening smirk when he had innocently asked how it worked told Rean that such knowledge was best left untouched.

"Are you ready?"

Again, he nodded in confirmation. For the past two months, his daily schedule proceeded without much variation in his planned activities; not that day and night meant anything to him at present, of course. With how the moon rotated as it orbited around the planet below, which in turn moved around the sun, what was technically called a day lasted two entire weeks in Zemuria.

That was how PROXY explained it to him. Rean didn't actually understand the underlying physics behind it. It was for the best that he kept track of time based on his sleep-wake cycle instead.

Every morning, like clockwork, PROXY would wake him up _precisely_ twenty-four hours from when he'd awoken the previous day. After that, a quick meal of the tasteless gruel that he still refused to call food, and he would listen to one of Starkiller's recorded teachings in the ways of the Force. Then came his private meditation practice, as he'd just performed, which meant that now was the time for...

"Recite the Codes," PROXY intoned.

…_combat practice_, and his personal favourite by far.

As relaxing as it was to immerse himself entirely in the Force, he had always been drawn to the thick of action. It was what had led him out of Ymir that fateful day, and what had ultimately opened his eyes to the breathtaking beauty that was the Force.

Every lesson would open with a recital of the codes of both the Jedi and Sith, a custom that Starkiller insisted upon in order for his pupil to grasp the underlying principles of both orders. Rean had come to learn of how Galen Marek had seen both Darth Vader and Rahm Kota as mentors at different points of his life, and how he had ultimately left both behind after the death of Juno Eclipse on the planet known as Kamino.

Yes, as bizarre as that would have sounded to him just two months ago, this was the reality he now lived in.

"_There is no emotion, there is peace. _  
_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._  
_There is no passion, there is serenity._  
_There is no chaos, there is harmony._  
_There is no death, there is the Force."_

He paused, contemplating on the meaning behind the words for a second, before continuing with its antithesis.

"_Peace is a lie, there is only passion._  
_Through passion, I gain strength._  
_Through strength, I gain power._  
_Through power, I gain victory._  
_Through victory, my chains are broken._  
_The Force shall free me."_

Two parts of a whole, utterly incompatible with one another, and yet both had to exist. It perplexed Rean as to how Starkiller found a balance in both.

"Excellent, apprentice," PROXY said, a training saber already ignited in his hand. "Now that _that's_ over with, we shall begin the lesson."

Rean withdrew his own lightsaber, wincing as he did so. Though they fought with training sabers that merely left burns and bruises at points of contact rather than outright dismemberment that came from proper lightsabers, PROXY never made these lessons easy for Rean. He much preferred deflection practice, using the Force to see beyond sight and predict the line of fire from the lasers of training probe droids.

Unfortunately, after the first month of training, he had managed to fairly consistently work with facing one droid firing at a leisurely pace. PROXY had increased the intensity of his training, but now he alternated between those exercises and what he called 'teaching by experience'.

In order words, he would need a healthy amount of bacta-spray once this lesson was over. This was going to suck.

At least it beat what Starkiller had gone through in his childhood. When he'd cheekily asked PROXY if the burns and cuts were really necessary, the droid had merely shrugged and scoffed about how '_back in my day, Master learnt from my repeated failures to kill him!'_

As Rean had come to learn over the past months, PROXY never lied. Rean supposed he should have been thankful that his instructor's present primary programming wasn't to train him by any means necessary.

Still, that didn't stop the droid from carrying out surprise attacks on him while he'd been sleeping, under the excuse of teaching him 'the importance of constant vigilance'.

PROXY waited several paces away, his appearance having morphed to that of a humanoid squid-like amphibian, tentacles hanging out from his head. Rean now knew that particular species to be the Nautolans, of which the renowned Jedi Master Kit Fisto whom PROXY was now impersonating was a member of.

"Enter your stance," came the deep and heavily accented voice of the Jedi Master.

Rean steeled himself for the lesson to come, and did as he was instructed. He held the grip of his training saber with both hands, hilt just below the chin, blade pointed to the right parallel to the ground. It was the _center of being_, a meditative stance traditionally employed in the Shii-Cho form of lightsaber combat.

He stared at his opponent, ready to defend at a moment's notice, giving himself in to the Force. He remembered Starkiller's words from the recordings he'd seen many times over, discussing the most basic of the seven lightsaber forms.

"_Form I, the Determination Form, is the most basic and oldest of the seven forms of lightsaber combat. Shii-Cho is simplistic and raw, and the required bladework is driven by the ebb and flow of the wielder's connection with the Force. Each strike leads into another, every swing part of a greater whole, known only to the eyes of the Force."_

Starkiller had demonstrated the form in his holorecording, and it was then that Rean knew that his master was a true prodigy his craft. He had been graceful, yet unpredictable; deadly and yet moving in harmony, and Rean wondered whether he would ever reach the level Starkiller had been in his prime.

He felt a jolt of _something_ indescribable – a warning, a song in the Force – and instinctively he moved his blade into a guard, parrying PROXY's first strike aside.

"Good!" His instructor was already moving in a second swing, and Rean hurriedly stepped backward, focusing on the Nautolan's body and posture rather than the blade itself, as he'd been taught. He grit his teeth as the second strike drove him backward, his hands quickly turning numb. "Do try and keep up, apprentice!"

The battle had been reset. He tried to still himself, to read his opponent and find an opening for attack, but PROXY wasn't making this easy. Of course, the droid was holding back _extremely _heavily, evidenced by how he was casually moving his blade around in tight ellipses while whistling at Rean. He had no doubt that if PROXY so desired, he could defeat Rean within seconds. Perhaps even shorter. Kit Fisto was a Jedi _Master_ for a reason.

"_In the hands of a master, Form I is as a continuous torrent of water over the falls. Move as the Force demands. Release yourself into the Force."_

Starkiller's words stuck with him. Shii-Cho had enabled him to parry and deflect the stun bolts of probe droids in other exercises, but it was one thing to calmly sense where blaster fire was heading and another thing entirely to put it into practice in the thick of combat.

"Ready yourself, apprentice!" PROXY grinned, an unsettling sight on the Nautolan's face, as he leapt toward Rean with his lightsaber raised high.

Again, his senses issued a warning, and he leapt away from a strike that would otherwise have left an angry welt on his dominant arm. PROXY was now moving into a thrust, and Rean just barely caught the blade in time to parry it aside before the tip could stab at his abdomen.

He saw how the PROXY's disguised eyes widened. Rean hadn't avoided _two_ consecutive strikes before. The Force called for him to take a half-step forward, and he entered PROXY's guard. With how his blade had been forced aside, the droid wouldn't be able to immediately move to parry his own riposte. This was his chance to strike!

He felt a sense of anticipation rising within, and he swung his lightsaber from where his parry had brought it -

-only to be sent tumbling to the ground below as PROXY backhanded him away.

"Pay attention, apprentice," PROXY berated. "Your entire body is your weapon. Why, had I been an enemy, your head would be separated from your body! Again!"

He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. He had let his emotions get the better of him, tracking only PROXY's training saber, just as he'd been instructed _not _to. In that instant, Rean had ignored the warning cry from the Force, halting its flow, and led to his defeat.

His cheek hurt, but he could endure it. He could still remember the lingering focus he'd sensed in Elise, tens of thousands of selge away. He needed to become proficient in this form before he could advance any further.

"I'm ready."

PROXY nodded, and moments later the battle resumed.

He was not at all surprised when at the end of the day, he needed to apply bacta to just about every imaginable part of his body. It hurt, but he was proud to say that now he could withstand _four_ of PROXY's attacks.

He ignored how the droid had described them as 'heavily telegraphed', and how he wouldn't coddle him as a child for much longer.

This was only the first of seven forms. Shii-Cho served as a foundation for the rest, and Starkiller had insisted on only allowing him to progress once PROXY was satisfied with his performance.

And when he'd finally worked his way through them, he would learn the seventh and final form of _Juyo _that neither Starkiller nor PROXY had revealed any further information of thus far. They had merely informing him that mastery of the form would be the sole determining factor for his return to Erebonia, and he would see to it that that day would soon come.

-o-o-o-

The years had certainly flown by.

All things considered, training the boy wasn't as bad an experience as he'd initially thought it would be, PROXY decided. Over the last six years, Rean Schwarzer (not that he ever called the apprentice by his full name) had diligently pursued and engrossed himself in both the ways of the Force and the art of the lightsaber, only once angrily demanding to be allowed to return home just over three years ago.

The whelp had actually brandished his lightsaber against him, ignoring the fact that the boy didn't know a thing about how to pilot the _Rogue Shadow _back to his home even if he did defeat PROXY. His untimely and unwieldy use of the Dark Side that, for a moment, actually required PROXY to fight seriously without a handicap had dissuaded the boy of that notion, making him realise that mastery over the Dark Side was an absolute necessity.

PROXY was glad that he was going ahead with their 'arrangement', but it was grating on his artificial neural networks that the child was now hesitating each time he was brought close to drawing upon the power of that aspect of the Force. He was now, what, fifteen years old? At his age, Starkiller had already been engaging his more potent training modules, _without_ a handicap on his part. In another two, his Master had been duelling Vader and Palpatine.

In comparison, the boy was still working his way through the lightsaber forms. They had touched base on all of them bar Juyo, which Starkiller had insisted prior to his death that the boy only learned once he could defeat any of his combat modules while fighting at full strength.

Of course, he was _decent_ at them all, and would certainly have been a force to be reckoned with even on the many battlefields of the Clone Wars, but he was still several years away from being called a master.

While adept at all of the six forms he'd been taught, he had followed in his master's footsteps, focusing on a blend of both Galen Marek's and his clone's chosen lightsaber styles. The former had always excelled in alternating between Soresu and Juyo philosophies while employing an unorthodox reverse-grip single-saber Shien form, while the latter had pushed beyond the boundaries of dual saber Jar'Kai combat with his blending of Forms VI, IV and V; Starkiller's twin lightsabers a blur on the battlefield as he laid down terrifying bursts of Force between acrobatic movements.

Like Starkiller, Rean favoured fighting with two lightsabers, having been immediately taken to the form when he'd been first exposed to Jar'Kai three years ago. He had worked at it with far more interest than any other form, becoming effectively ambidextrous within a few months. Much like Starkiller, he had drawn inspiration from the philosophies of other forms, freely weaving in Ataru's dynamism, Soresu's impenetrable defenses and tight footwork, and the reverse-grip Shien's mix of tempered aggression and probing attacks into his bladework.

When flatly asked _why _he had outright copied his master, even going so far as to favour the unorthodox reverse-grip, he had merely blushed and stammered out an excuse. PROXY smirked at the thought. Ah, how the disciple was so much like the master.

Of course, he still wasn't able to weave in displays of the power of the Force between lightsaber sequences quite as naturally as Starkiller had done with his insights into the form of Niman. Despite that, the first time he had done so he had caught even _PROXY _off-guard, landing a successful strike on him despite the probabilistic model he had developed over the few years he had spent bullying – _teaching, _he meant to say – his student.

Of course, that only served to inform PROXY that Rean was ready for more intense combat sessions. He felt only a slight sense of schadenfreude in his circuits when the apprentice left with several more injuries than had been the norm after his first exposure to the Asajj Ventress combat module.

The boy did learn terrifying quickly, when one compared his progress to anyone other than Starkiller. Rean had learnt from _his _own use of what information he had on Ventress' style of Jar'Kai, adapting it and Starkiller's own into an amalgam of the form that suited him. With each successive fight against the same opponent, PROXY had been forced to tune the handicap he'd given himself down just slightly. It wasn't the perfect method of emulating the way Force-users fought, since he was personally unable to grasp what the Force even _was_, but he liked to think that he could still match the level of Jedi Knights in combat, limited though he may be.

The hiss of air and the sound of a blast-door slamming shut informed him that his master's little apprentice had returned from his excursion outside of the _Rogue Shadow. _He was honestly a little impressed that the kid had survived on the starship for several years without once leaving its doors, before he finally grew bored enough of the stale routine to ask for a chance to leave the ship a few months prior.

PROXY had considered his request back then, found no contradiction with his primary programming, and allowed the boy free rein to do as he pleased. He suggested taking his master's speederbike for a ride on the moon's surface – something he had neglected to tell the boy existed, apparently – and since then it had become part of his regular routine.

The modified hoverbike was based off the standard Imperial 74-Z speeder bike, except Starkiller had removed its blaster cannons to provide more power to its repulsorlift engines for his uses in high-speed pursuits of his many targets. The first time the boy had ridden on it, he had very nearly crashed into a rock formation on the surface.

Ah, moments like those were what kept his sanity in check. Life without his master just wasn't the same as it had been, even for a droid like him.

Rean removed the flightsuit he'd worn out onto the moon's surface, one of the standard issue Imperial pilot suits that Starkiller had claimed among other things on Kamino during his final parting from the galaxy at large. The many lightsabers they'd collected that day from the clones of Galen Marek that Vader had been growing there had been essential in replacing the ones that they had burned through and destroyed during their training sessions.

Rean had postulated that septium from his planet could replace the kyber crystal at the heart of the lightsaber as a power source, upon learning of the mechanisms of the weapons of Jedi and Sith and the existence of synth-crystals. PROXY didn't recall ever having come across those gemstones when he and his master had walked the planet's surface, but to be fair they _had_ been in self-imposed exile and that had been well over four thousand years ago. Many things could have changed since then.

"Training session later, PROXY?" Rean asked, placing the helmet of his suit on the equipment rack. As always after one of his riding sessions, there was the look of thrill in his eyes and beads of sweat running down the side of his head. He had shaved his hair shorter a few years ago – an effort to emulate Starkiller's appearance, PROXY guessed – and was now wearing his usual training garb, including the dull metal vambraces and breastplate that was part of his master's apparel.

He considered the question, drawing upon his past experiences with his student and the rate of progress that had been attained. That information was fed to a separate network within his circuits to calculate the optimal training method for his student. A few thousand iterations and several billion executed processes later, the output was obtained.

"Force training."

"Again?" the kid whined, itching for the lightsaber by his side. "I was hoping to test out a new sequence I'd thought of."

He would give the kid points for originality. While not quite at his master's level, he didn't stick by rigid rules and forms as much as some Jedi had done during the Clone Wars.

"Meditation first, and then a spar if we have time," he conceded. Time hardly mattered to them, anyway, since there wasn't much else to do. "You still have yet to perfectly carry out the exercise from Starkiller's latest lesson."

The boy grumbled, but conceded, moving over to the spot by the window that gave a perfect view of his home planet. For an instant, a wistful look appeared on his face – as it always did – before he schooled his expression and knelt down, closing his eyes as he placed both lightsabers before himself, each one having been claimed from Kamino.

PROXY heard the apprentice mutter the Jedi and Sith Codes under his breath, before gently levitating both his weapons with the Force. They rotated slowly, before becoming disassembled piece by piece, orbiting leisurely in the air as he began the exercise.

It was a lesson in fine control and maintenance of his concentration over multiple threads of thought, an essential skill for mastery of the Force both inside and outside of combat. Besides, it allowed the boy to refine his understanding of his blade's components and machinery through disassembly and reassembly.

That on its own wasn't difficult, and the boy could have done that years ago. No, for his current task, he had to move each piece individually and rebuild both weapons, all while focusing on sensing his family back in his home village.

He wasn't sure whether the boy realised it, but this exercise had also dramatically improved his skill with Jar'Kai. Dual-saber combat required each blade to be wielded separately and yet together, and working on these twin tasks that were fundamentally different was in itself already beneficial for his training despite not once igniting the lightsaber.

His body was still, not fidgeting as he had done when they first met five years ago. He was focused, sharp; a true warrior, and PROXY knew the day would soon come when he would be ready to learn the truth of Juyo and to begin his practice in the form that drew upon passion and ferocity.

That was, of course, if he ever learned to wield his frankly ridiculous sensitivity to the Dark Side as a weapon he could control, rather than shy away from it as he had done every time. It was easy to fall thrall to the Dark Side, yes, but there had to be a limit to his overblown caution. Starkiller had been hurling bolts of Force Lightning since he had been a child.

"_Elise… mum… dad…" _the boy mumbled, but his concentration did not slip. The two blades' components mixed and matched, then were undone, and the crafting of his weapons began anew.

"What do you sense?" PROXY asked curiously. Rean should be able to maintain a conversation at the same time as performing his task, given the progress he had already achieved.

Over the years, he had learned a great many things about Rean; unsurprising, seeing as he was the only conversation partner available. Like Starkiller, the boy grew up lonely, except he had his foster parents and sister where Galen Marek had Darth Vader and PROXY. Perhaps that was, at least partially, what had drawn the Force to grant Starkiller his vision.

"She's… training, I think." The words came slowly, his disassembled lightsaber slowing down just fractionally as he strained his concentration. "There's someone else with her – a bright light to the Force, powerful and… kind – there's a sense of frustration but also… determination?"

Hmm. And there was another aspect he'd discovered when the boy had become sensitive enough to have a vague feel for others beyond those he shared a personal connection with. The entire damn _planet_ was apparently teeming with Force-sensitives, using the latent energies of the Force to power something the boy had called _crafts, _but in ways not normally performed by Jedi or Sith.

Perhaps the Witches of Dathomir might have known more about it, but alas PROXY didn't have any information on their powers at hand. Those nutjobs had always claimed to cast spells and use magic, when everyone else in the greater galaxy knew they worked with the Force.

"She's working on something – she's close to achieving it, but not quite," he continued. "Father is watching, he's proud – but also… sad? Melancholic? Hold on, it's hard to see from here, but –"

Abruptly, he flinched, and both lightsabers clattered to the floor. It didn't take an advanced artificial intelligence running hundreds of thousands of parallel thought strands to figure out why.

"You?" he guessed.

"Me," Rean said glumly, head held down. "It's been six years, but they still…"

Unbidden, a wave of what some might have called pity stirred within. Curse his mechanical heart. How had his programming been altered that much from the days of attempting to kill his master?

The child felt emotions that fed the Dark Side, but each time he did so he forced them away, ironically in _fear _of what he could unleash. That simply wasn't healthy, not least because every kriffing Jedi that had done the same ended up a pawn of the Dark Side rather than channeling its powers with any semblance of control.

If he ever wanted to return to his family, he had to master Juyo. Starkiller's orders were clear. He needed to beat one of his combat modules operating at his full power before he was allowed to show him the master's recordings of the form. He thought about his plan of action, saw no contradiction, and shrugged.

With that, he activated a combat module he'd saved for years, amongst many others that the boy had yet to experience.

"Reassemble your lightsabers and ready yourself," a sinister voice left his artificial cords. He fished around his belt, retrieving a lightsaber with a particularly long hilt. With a press of a button, twin beams of plasma left from each end, and he held the saber-staff outward with one hand in the ready position of Darth Maul's variant of Juyo.

"PROXY?" the boy asked uncertainly, although he did as was asked and began piecing his weapons together. "Who is that? And what _species_ are you?"

"Darth Maul, a Zabrak Sith assassin taught under Darth Sidious' personal tutelage, as I'm sure you know," he said, pausing for a moment, before continuing. "And as it so happens, one of the masters of Form VII, otherwise known as the Ferocity Form of _Juyo."_

-o-o-o-

Rean gripped his lightsabers tightly, both blades held in Starkiller's favoured reverse-grip that could be switched to the more conventional method at a moment's notice. His left hand was raised in a guard in front of him, his right lightsaber angled diagonally upward behind his back, ready to be unleashed in a sweeping strike.

It was the bedrock of his master's technique, both blades switching freely between Soresu and Shien, Ataru and Niman; a balance between defense and offence. His variant of Jar'Kai relied on unpredictability and speed, a flurry of blows and feats of the Force that would eventually overpower any opponent.

He had heard of Darth Maul from PROXY's and Starkiller's lessons on the history of the Galactic Republic, of course. He'd slain the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. PROXY's imitation of the Jedi's skill with Ataru had been instrumental in developing Rean's own understanding of the form. Maul had been defeated by Qui-Gon's padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had later become _the _eminent master of Soresu.

He knew all of that, but evidently neither of his teachers had been forthcoming with the details. He didn't even _know_ that a double-bladed lightsaber like that existed, much less how it fit into this unknown form of Juyo.

He calmed his mind, ignoring the beads of sweat building up on his face. Analysis was the key to victory. The advantage of PROXY's weapon lay in its long reach and the ease of follow-up counterattacks if Rean tried to parry either of the blades. His own strength lay in being able to use two blades for both offence and defense, while he suffered the drawback of being unable to win in a contest of pure strength.

If so, then –

PROXY moved. He leapt through the air – almost like Ataru – but the strength with which he swung his saberstaff was more along the lines of the sheer ferocity of Djem So. He couldn't parry or deflect, and so he leapt backward.

His foe didn't hesitate for even a second, transitioning into a sweeping strike that forced him to somersault backwards, losing yet more ground to the imitation of the Sith assassin. A thrust from one blade was barely deflected by Rean, and he'd been forced to vault over PROXY when he rotated his entire weapon about its hilt to strike with the other blade.

That gave him an opening. Body crouched low, he tried to slice at his enemy's legs, but PROXY leapt over his first strike, then counterattacked in mid-air, and Rean's arm stung from the force transmitted up the length of his second lightsaber when he hurriedly parried the attack. The droid stepped backward, his weapon held in front of him once more, as though that swift exchange of strikes had never happened.

With that temporary disengagement, Rean could now analyse just what had happened.

Juyo clearly drew upon the other lightsaber forms, much like Form VI had done in distilling the qualities of its predecessors. Form VII certainly deserved its moniker of the Ferocity Form, based on how fast and hard PROXY had struck. There was an almost zealous quality to its attacks, as a master of Form I might have achieved in giving himself up to the Force, but there was still something _greater _within.

"Ready for round two, apprentice?" PROXY idly twirled his staff. "Weren't you intending on showing me one of your new sequences?"

"…probably best that I save that for another lesson."

There had to be an answer to this. Should he meet aggression with aggression, transition into Ataru and harry at his enemy? Or should he play the defensive, read PROXY's movements while staying on guard with Soresu's absolute defense and tight footwork?

He shifted his lightsabers, tensing as PROXY did the same, mirroring him with his own adjustments to find an opening. He didn't know his PROXY was going to attack, and even if he could sense his movements through the Force and preemptively raise his guard those strikes were simply too quick and its follow-up too unpredictable for him to successfully block.

No, Soresu was not the answer here. But Qui-Gon had mastered Ataru, and still lost to Darth Maul on Naboo –

He didn't have time to think. PROXY must have sensed his hesitation, because he struck once more, and Rean simply did what was most natural to him. He didn't have _time _to consider the lightsaber forms and their relative strengths and weaknesses, not with the rapid staccato of strikes and thrusts that were being sent toward him.

He swung without direction, moving as the Force bid him to, his lightsaber flitting between the forms, switching between grips as he'd seen Starkiller do in his recordings. Unpredictable though Juyo seemed to be, he too could meet PROXY's challenge head on. There was passion, and yet peace; harmony, and yet chaos, and he fell into the rhythm of battle.

-o-o-o-

Ah, yes. This was what he liked to see.

The kid's eyes were focused, but his mind was clear of doubt now. That much was obvious. His student didn't track the blades of his saberstaff with his eyes anymore, no longer tensing up every time he so much as twitched. _This _was the trance-like state that Starkiller fell into every time he fought, not caring about lightsaber forms or pre-planned transitions between sequences.

When he fought, he was one with the Force, moving as it directed. It was why he had such a masterful command of Juyo.

Truthfully, what PROXY was presently imitating couldn't be called the Ferocity Form. It was an _imitation_, nothing more. The furious staccato that drew upon the wielder's passion couldn't be mimicked by a non-Force user like himself. It demanded a calm passion, a whirlwind kept within a glass bottle, ready to be unleashed with every strike. It was the form that required the user to step closest to the passion of the Dark Side, going even further than Form I.

With its mastery came unrivaled power and agility contained within a torrent of blows. Every strike was its own conclusion, and yet part of a greater whole; a rhythm of punctuated staccato that made its user completely unpredictable. The form was named after the creature native to the planet of Sarapin of the same name, also called the _vaapad_, and its many tentacles that struck as a blur to the naked eye were said to be akin to the lightsaber of the master of Form VII.

His inability to sense the Force or give in to the heat of emotion meant that he purposely gave himself a disadvantage, even while presently fighting at maximum operational capacity. He was a droid, his mind composed of circuits and networks, ordered and programmed; everything that Juyo was _not. _Truthfully speaking, Darth Maul was one of his _least _effective combat modules.

Still, though, the kid was putting up a good fight. It was time to push him further.

Hmm… his earlier jibe at the move he'd planned to demonstrate hadn't succeeded. What else would best goad the boy?

Ah, right.

He broke the rhythm of battle, catching both the boy's blades with each of his own, shoving him backward. The flow shattered, Rean stumbled, and PROXY seized upon the opportunity. A carefully aimed swing, and his lightsaber grazed his student across the shoulder.

Not too deeply, of course. He didn't want to kill the child.

"Is this all you've got, apprentice?" he mocked. "Do you really think you can protect your family with this?"

His eyes narrowed, but still he didn't reply. _Excellent._ Time to go one step further.

"Perhaps I should change our offer, hmm? Maybe I should leave you stranded here, never to rejoin dearest Elise, Teo and Lucia?"

"No!"

Good. His sensors indicated the boy's rising heartbeat. One more push.

"Or perhaps I should pay them a visit myself? Maybe you will be more motivated in your studies if I kidnapped _them _as well?"

"Leave them _ALONE!"_

A venerable torpedo of physical Force sent PROXY flying backward, and for a moment his sensors went haywire. By the time they had corrected themselves, Rean was already in motion, both sabers ready to strike as he rushed at PROXY.

Was it just his imagination, or had the kid just somehow instinctively coated his lightsabers with _Force Lightning?_

Perhaps he'd pushed him just a _bit _too far.

He struck with wild abandon, and for the first time ever in a duel with his apprentice PROXY was on the back foot. It took all of his internal rotors running at full power just to deflect the incoming blows, never mind launch an attack of his own. With the frenzied state the boy was in, even _he _couldn't predict what the next strike would be.

How ironic, that it took Juyo to _teach _Juyo.

It wasn't truly Form VII, of course, since the crux of the form was _tempered_ aggression and passion, rather than the blind rage Rean currently demonstrated, but every beginner had to start somewhere.

He was forced to raise the staff to block downward swings from both of Rean's lightsabers. To his surprise, he dropped one of the weapons, sending PROXY stumbling from the change in balance as he overcompensated on his block. For an instant, he caught the snarl of rage on the boy's face, just before his now free hand released a ball of Force that sent PROXY crashing hard against the wall several metres behind.

He knew it was over. An instant later, the boy leapt forward, one hand wrapped around the hilt of his remaining lightsaber while the other pressed down on its base, cleanly stabbing the blade through PROXY's torso where his heart would have been.

He smiled grimly. It seemed his plan had worked.

"Excellent work, apprentice!"

The holoprojection faded, and once more he was regular old PROXY, the hole in his chassis quickly being repaired by his internal systems.

-o-o-o-

Maul was gone. The monster that had threatened to harm his family had been defeated. They were safe. He had won, he had killed his enemy, he had destroyed –

Reality came crashing down around him. His family was in no danger. Darth Maul was long-dead. There wasn't a Sith, his family were in no threat, and in front of him…

"PROXY!"

He stepped backward, horrified, his remaining lightsaber clattering to the floor. The sweltering fire within faded, replaced with the icy grip of fear and terror. He'd _stabbed PROXY. _He'd just killed –

"Excellent work, apprentice!"

Darth Maul's fearsome visage faded, and there was PROXY once again in all his glory.

"How… _what?"_ He didn't understand. The lightsaber had gone _through_ Maul. How was it that the droid looked _proud _of Rean?!

"Hmm?" PROXY hummed, tilting his head in confusion. "Ah, yes! Did I fail to mention that I was constructed with excellent repair mechanisms in the event of catastrophic failure in battle?"

…what?

"No!" That fear was gone, and now he simply felt indignant. "Why did you even _do _that?!"

It had been completely unlike PROXY. Though the droid had a twisted sense of humour and a certain lack of appreciation for social norms (not that Rean knew better, of course, after being stranded on the moon for years), he'd never insulted or threatened his family before.

"Why, it would best serve to encourage you, of course! You looked so glum after meditation that I simply had to intervene!"

"You nearly died!" Rean protested. He ignored the irreverent _'pssh' _PROXY made. "You know that I can't control the Dark Side, so why –"

"Do you _still_ not understand, apprentice?" PROXY interrupted.

He stared at his instructor uncomprehendingly. The only thing he understood was that once more, he'd drawn upon the power that had awakened within him in the blizzard years ago, and almost killed his sole remaining friend in the world.

"Ah, and after all my praises, too." PROXY let out a drawn-out sigh, shaking his head in a manner that vexed Rean. Before he could make his irritation known, he continued. "Tell me, kid. What do you think about Juyo?"

"Juyo?" he repeated, mulling over the question, reviewing the battle in his mind. Few words came to mind. "It was… wild. Chaotic. It felt like I was attacked from everywhere at once. And then…"

He hesitated. PROXY nodded encouragingly.

"There was no pattern to it, and yet there was. It moved between fast and slow, defense hidden within offence. But beneath it all, there was…"

Again, he paused. It was only at his instructor's patient smile and the folding of his arms while whistling that he continued.

"The Dark Side," he reluctantly said, barely louder than a whisper.

"Bingo!" PROXY snapped his fingers, and Rean almost jumped in surprise. "And I must say, apprentice, you channeled the Dark Side with flying colours!"

He felt guilty, dirty. He was no stranger to toeing the line between light and dark, what with how Starkiller had emphasised an understanding of the philosophies of Jedi and Sith, but to immerse himself in it as he'd done and _enjoyed_ it felt as though he'd allowed himself to become tainted.

"Ah, what's with the grim look, apprentice? No harm done, see?" PROXY gestures wildly at his torso. "Good as new!"

"If you'd been anyone else…"

_Translation: if you weren't a self-repairing robot, you would have died. _He would have killed someone he cherished, all in a fit of blind rage.

"Well, good thing for both of us, eh?" PROXY shrugged nonchalantly. "Right, then! Now that you have successfully defeated one of my modules, you are finally ready for instruction in Form VII."

He held out a holoprojector, set it on the ground, and began to play.

"_If you are watching this recording, then you must have successfully defeated PROXY without a handicap on his part. Congratulations are in order." _

"He's missing the part where he beat me when he was ten," PROXY pointed out unhelpfully.

"_If so, then you are ready to learn the ways of Form VII, otherwise known as Juyo, the Way of the Vornskr. It is the most difficult of all lightsaber forms, known only to a select few, and the deadliest form both to its wielder and his enemies. Only one who has understood and learnt all six other forms can truly master Juyo."_

Rean nodded grimly. He could see why. It demanded the balanced harmony within chaos of Shii-Cho, a willingness to listen to the Force, and the calm control of Makashi all while the lightsaber remained in motion. Soresu's defense came to the fore between the rapid staccato of blows, and Ataru's dynamism spoke for itself with how much Juyo demanded of the wielder's body. Djem So's overwhelming power fed into Form VII's vicious strikes, while Niman's moderation of blade and Force bolstered the strength of the connection to the well of passion that gave Juyo its strength.

That was probably why PROXY had lost. The form simply didn't _work _well for a droid, much less one who couldn't truly bask in the presence of the Force.

"_More than any other form, even Shii-Cho, Juyo is a philosophy," _Starkiller stressed. "_It is carefully controlled passion, ready to be unleashed with every swing of the lightsaber. It is a contradiction. Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony."_

"Death, yet the Force," he whispered at the same time as his master spoke.

_This _was why he'd been taught the ways of Jedi and Sith. Everything had been leading to this.

"_To master the Dark Side, you must accept it as part of you, and yet separate. This is the foundation of Juyo."_

With that, he stopped speaking, and in the projection he ignited both his lightsabers, closed his eyes, and _moved._

It was breathtaking. He couldn't see how many strikes he'd swung at the air, couldn't even track his blade as it moved. He struck from a hundred impossible angles, and yet each of his blows found their marks. He weaved in saber throws, bursts of Force and even bolts of lightning in his sequences; seemingly utterly random, and yet he was in perfect control.

Truly, Starkiller was a master of Juyo.

Long after the recording had ended, Rean was still speechless, staring at the empty space where he had been, replaying his movements in his mind.

"Now that you've _finally _tapped upon the Dark Side, we should incorporate it into our daily routine. Perhaps you will finally be able to master Juyo, eh?" PROXY chirped.

He was so close. This was his final task. Once he learnt Juyo, he could return home. He could find father, mother and Elise, tell them how much he'd missed them.

He could do all that, but…

"No," he said.

"No?" PROXY sounded confused.

"I lost control back there," he said, thinking back to the primal _rage _he'd felt. "I can't – I can't control it this way, PROXY. It's too dangerous. For you, and for me."

He had wanted nothing more than to hurt the one who had threatened his family, to tear him limb from limb. He hadn't even seen his opponent as PROXY, or even Darth Maul. Back then, all he saw before him was a threat that needed to be neutralized by any means necessarily. If even the extremes of Form I were frowned upon by the Jedi Order for its necessity to hand the reins of control over to the Force, then Juyo ventured into outright dangerous territory. It was no wonder why knowledge of the form was heavily controlled.

"You need to be able to execute the form of Juyo before you can return," PROXY cautioned slowly. "Master's orders are absolute."

"I know," Rean sighed, running a hand down the side of his head. It was a force of habit, since he'd already trimmed his hair short from the unruly mop that it had been. "But I need to do this _right_, PROXY. One step at a time."

For a moment, PROXY remained silent. Then, he began chuckling, his robotic voice harsh and uneven. "You know, apprentice. Sometimes, you impress even me."

"I'll… take that as a compliment?" he half-said, half-asked.

"Master was wise to train you." PROXY nodded sagely. Then, to Rean's surprise, he looked away, slightly abashed and dare he say it, guilty. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about what I said."

Ah, right. He _did _threaten his family, earlier. PROXY had an odd way of showing affection, since he was fairly certain that he'd only done that to _help _him return to his family, ironically enough.

"Don't worry about it, PROXY," he said, placing a reassuring hand on a metallic shoulder that was cool to the touch. "You were only trying to help."

His instructor alternated between staring at Rean and the hand he'd placed on his shoulder, before forcibly removing said hand and placing it back by the boy's side. Rean felt a wave of amusement as the normally insufferable droid who seemed to never lack for words temporarily fell quiet. Then, he coughed – droids don't _need _to cough, of course – and continued speaking.

"Very well! Starting from tomorrow, we shall work on the movements of Juyo alongside the others that you already know. Incorporate its essence at your own pace."

Rean nodded, clenching his fists in determination. Day by day, he would learn to wield the Dark Side, without giving in to its temptations. He would be neither Jedi nor Sith, like his master before him.


	3. Chapter 3

**So, uhh... I've kind of put this story on hiatus, for now, after figuring out just how complex the Kiseki universe actually is. I'm uploading a backlog of some stuff I've written up, but for the time being (at least until Cold Steel 3 comes out on PC, probably) I likely won't be actively working on this. Hopefully, at least one of you poor souls with a penchant for masochism reading this mess of a fanfiction get some enjoyment out of it. I haven't spent the time looking over what I had written, so expect plenty of typos and lore inaccuracies.**

* * *

Eight years.

Had it truly been _eight years_?

Eight years since _that day_ in the blizzard. Eight years since she'd lost her brother. Eight years since she'd sworn never to be the one who needed protecting.

She had been only seven years old, back then. Rean would have been seventeen by now if it hadn't been for her. Her brother's death still hurt deeply – she doubted anything could get rid of the memory of the kind smile he'd always given her, how he'd pat her on the head when they were kids – but that pain had lessened since then, and over time she had learned to move on.

Rean would have wanted that.

The carriage she was in continued jerking unsteadily as the train continued toward Trista. They were close to their destination, now, and he could see the houses on the outskirts of the town passing by as the train cruised across the countryside. In just a few more hours, she would officially become a student of Thors Military Academy. Already, she was dressed in the red military uniform that had been sent over to Ymir upon her successful (early) application to the school.

She was only fifteen, sure, but she had made the decision to apply for a place in the academy two years before the normal age of enrolment. Master Ka-fai had deemed her as being close to the intermediate stage of her training, and bid her to seek her own path while his journey led him east of Zemuria. Rather than wasting time idling around to improve her skills on her own, she had taken the plunge to move one step closer to her dreams.

_Their_ dreams, rather. Though Rean was gone, she liked to think that he lived through her.

Her tachi was placed across her lap, and the rest of her belongings were neatly packed within the bag by her feet. She allowed a crude smile to form on her face, thinking of how seven-year-old Elise Schwarzer would have undoubtedly freak out at the thought of one day enrolling at Thors rather than St. Astraia Girls' School as she'd always envisioned. She had thought she would become a proper lady of nobility, marry a dashing noble, live on happily ever after…

…everything had truly changed after Rean died.

She closed her eyes, calming her mind, just as she had been taught in her early days of training in the Eight Leaves One Blade style. It was her master's first lesson to her, ever since he saw how much Rean's death had devastated her. It had been instrumental in allowing her to live on _for _Rean, rather than wallowing in self-pity and hindering her training. Truly, she owed master Ka-fai a great debt.

An announcement over the train's communication systems interrupted her musing.

"_The Ministry of Railways wishes to thank all passengers for their patronage. This train is bound for Bereahard, via Celdic. The next stop is Trista."_

Well, time to get ready, then. She took stock of her belongings once more. Everything was where they should be, despite how much her mother had fretted over making sure that everything had been packed.

She still felt guilty at the tearful goodbyes she'd shared with her parents, knowing how worried they must have been at the thought of losing yet another one of their children. Thors was a military academy for a reason, after all. Still, they understood just _why_ she was doing this, even though she had never explicitly told them. They both missed Rean just as much as herself.

It would take two years of study in the academy. Two years of improving her skills and educating herself in the Erebonian Empire's history. Thors attracted the brightest and most ambitious in Erebonia, and there were sure to be others greater than herself in the art of the sword. She relished at the challenge they would bring. Master Ka-fai had said that experience was what she needed now. She needed to get stronger, so she could protect others as Rean had done for her.

She gathered her belongings as the train began to slow down. Several other students were doing the same, but curiously their uniforms were of a different colour from hers. How strange.

It didn't matter, she supposed. She would know what exactly her red uniform meant in just a few more hours. She'd already waited eight years for this moment, after all.

-o-o-o-

Rean panted in exhaustion, one of his blades pointed at the neck of the man who now lay on his back on the ground in front of him. His opponent's lightsaber had been removed from his grip two strikes back from an unexpected lightsaber sequence that finished with a _sun djem_ – disarmament – that he'd been saving for days now. Despite his fatigue, he allowed himself a victorious smile.

_Finally. _Obi-Wan Kenobi's near-invincibility with Soresu had ended most duels in a stalemate for weeks now. Of the many combat modules that PROXY boasted, it was ironically this one that he found the hardest to beat.

Most of the time, their duels simply continued to the point where neither of them could land a strike on the other, since his style of Jar'Kai combat couldn't overcome Soresu's defense while he hardly gave any room for PROXY to counterattack. Eventually, his body made of flesh and bone always inadvertently gave way to fatigue, allowing PROXY to end the fight.

He refused to acknowledge defeat in those cases. Being _booped_ on the nose was _not _considered victory, no matter how much PROXY delighted in that particular action after his legs had given way following hours of combat.

From the Jedi Master's body came a flash of bright blue light, and when it faded it was once more PROXY who lay within the _Rogue Shadow. _Rean deactivated his lightsaber, helping PROXY to his feet.

"Well done, apprentice! Your use of Form VI between bursts of Ataru truly tested my systems! Even my mathematical models couldn't have predicted that _sun djem!_"

He grinned in return. Since his first exposure to Juyo two years ago, he'd taken to distilling a fraction of its philosophies into other forms, in the hopes that he could one day truly master Form VII. Principle to the form was unpredictability and commitment to every strike, and he'd attempted to ease himself into that mindset before drawing more deeply on the emotions that fuelled and truly gave Juyo its potency.

Already, he could call upon the barest of Force Lightning at will, having worked hard at it ever since PROXY had informed him of his accidental unleashing of the power during his blind rage. Still, though, it lacked the power that any true Sith could boast of.

He had taken to work at Juyo in private practice outside of duels with PROXY, and _only _when out on the moon's surface. Struggling to control the raging storm within was hard enough; he didn't want to risk bringing harm to PROXY or his only way home that was the _Rogue Shadow_.

"That's the last of your combat modules, isn't it?"

What a ride it'd been. From the days of beating a severely disadvantaged Darth Maul just two years ago, he had managed to eventually overcome Jedi and Sith warriors of legend that Starkiller had constantly made reference to in his lectures – Count Dooku, Qui-Gon Jinn, Kit Fisto, General Grievous, Anakin Skywalker, Ki-Adi-Mundi, and even the legendary user of the Vaapad variant of form VII, Mace Windu, had all been tried, tested and beaten.

They were, of course, but mere shells of the warriors themselves. PROXY could only replicate the barest mimicry of their forms, not their powers with the Force. Still, it was a feat in and of itself, and Rean allowed himself to feel proud over the fact.

"Indeed, apprentice!" PROXY's head bobbed up and down rapidly. "This brings back memories of the time Master had beaten the last of my modules! Why, he was such a young lad back then – what was he, twelve, thirteen years old?"

He pointedly ignored, again, how PROXY compared him to Starkiller's own prodigious skill. He knew PROXY was teasing him too, based on how he stared at Rean with glowing eyes that never blinked, only to look away with disappointment when he refused to respond to that comparison.

"What's next, then?" Since his first victory over Darth Maul, they'd taken to basing their sparring sessions around themes, involving him defeating masters of each form. Soresu was the last of them, since a true master of the form was nigh unkillable.

"You've listened to all of Master's recordings years ago," PROXY chimed. "Alas, dear apprentice, I don't know what else to offer you. Juyo remains your final test."

Rean sighed. "Always comes back to form VII, doesn't it?"

Don't get him mistaken – Juyo was a beautiful form, elegant, deadly and requiring truly masterful skill with the lightsaber – but it just didn't _suit _him. He had no idea why the Dark Side responded so readily to his call, since he never relished in its feeling.

"Apologies, apprentice." PROXY even _sounded _apologetic, for once. "But you know that I cannot disobey my master's orders."

"Yeah, I know." Once more, he sighed. He had always hesitated from using Juyo in a true fight since the day PROXY had introduced him to the form, but sooner or later the day had to come. "I'll begin using it in our spars soon. Just… give me some time."

PROXY nodded. "Of course."

_Time. _To be honest, it scarcely meant anything to him anymore. During his initial months on the moon, the days seemed to stretch impossibly long, but now the passage of time was tracked based on the number of combat modules he'd beaten and the victory tally he'd kept over their spars.

He stretched his mind, sensing through the Force the comforting presences that had grounded him during his exile. His parents were together still, twin pillars of strength with a nexus of connections stemming from them toward others he could only assume were the villagers of Ymir under their charge.

Curiously, Elise had been physically separated from them for some time now, along with the strangely powerful Force-sensitive warrior she'd trained with that exuded a sense of calm strength. It was hard to pin down her exact location through the Force, but she got the sense that she'd been traveling around occasionally, although most days she stayed in the same geographical location. For a few months now, she'd been surrounded by other particularly unique Force-signatures, even when one considered just how strongly the people of Zemuria resonated with the Force. Just what was she up to?

There were other changes, too. He sensed how her mood had shifted from her usual melancholy since the time when she'd begun interacting with those he assumed were her new friends. Their bonds were hard to interpret, since he hardly had the chance to truly understand this aspect of the Force during his exile on the moon, but what was once distrust and apprehensionhad bloomed into acceptance and some degree of trust. For once, her spirit no longer felt lonely. He was honestly happy for her.

He got the sense that she'd been growing stronger. She was always bright to what he liked to term his _'Force sense'_, but the intensity of her glow had increased rapidly since her change in routine. Whatever she was up to, she was clearly doing good for herself.

He tried to picture what Elise might look like now. He couldn't imagine her being the demure child she'd been before his abduction, not with how much fervour she displayed in her training. Did she even have the same hairstyle? He imagined the colour of her hair, that blend of dark purple that bordered on black which she inherited from mother, her bright blue eyes, that bow she always kept on her shirt, the gentle smile –

_A building made of crystal. Shouts of celebration turned into shrieks of panic._

_The city was in flames._

_A cannon. A single shot. An entire city obliterated._

_A fortified military fortress vanished._

_A legion of droids and robots. Living giants of metal that trampled over the battlefield._

_An airship._

_War._

_Deception._

_Betrayal._

_A face he knew, among others he didn't. Elise._

_And at the heart of it all –_

_Death._

"_APPRENTICE!" _Heavy arms shook him, and his eyes burst open as he gasped for air. His entire body shook. He looked around wildly, the last traces of the haunting images that had flashed by lingering within his mind.

What –

"Calm yourself!" PROXY pressed both mechanical hands firmly down on his shoulders. "Breathe."

"What… what was…" He tried to make sense of what he'd seen. There was death, so much _death –_

"I've been trying to rouse you for three minutes and twenty three seconds, apprentice," PROXY said dryly. "I believe _I _should be the one asking you that."

For a moment, he didn't speak, the depictions he'd seen replaying over and over in his head.

"I saw things, PROXY," he recounted, once he finally got a hold over himself. "There was… a city… a celebration… there was so much _destruction…"_

"You _saw _this?" PROXY asked, his voice intoned strangely. "What else?"

"There was a war. A… betrayal," he said, scrunching his brows in memory. "It was…"

"A kriffing _Force vision_," PROXY swore. "_Of course_ it had to happen to you."

A Force vision. A wave of fear ran down his spine as he remembered just what he'd seen.

"I saw her, PROXY."

Instantly, PROXY grew rigid, even more than usual for the droid. He looked at Rean with all alertness. "Your sister?"

"Elise." He nodded. "She was there, PROXY."

"Where?"

"_Everywhere_."

He'd watched her fighting in the city, her life fading from an errant projectile. He had seen her in a battlefield, cut down by gun and sword. She had been torn piece by piece by some ancient monster, buying time for other unfamiliar figures to run away.

"When?" PROXY asked the question; a single word.

He didn't know. He looked into the Force, begged it for answers, but there was no definite reply. He only got a vague sense of urgency.

"Soon."

He looked at PROXY hopefully. The droid always had the answers to his questions, in topics as diverse as galactic history and mathematics, to lightsaber forms and biology. For once, PROXY seemed just as lost as he.

"You need to go, apprentice," PROXY said suddenly.

"But I haven't mastered Juyo –"

"You have," he interrupted firmly. Rean's jaw clammed shut as PROXY let out a drawn-out sigh. "Look, kid. I've seen what happened to my master after Juno Eclipse died on Kamino. Even a half-brained bantha can tell that your sister is clearly important to you. I don't wish for you to suffer that same fate."

"But –"

PROXY snorted. "I've seen you practice outside when you think I'm not looking. You're _good_ at this, kid. Nowhere close to Starkiller, definitely, but you _understand _the meaning ofJuyo."

With that, PROXY withdrew two lightsabers, and changed to a combat module Rean could honestly say he hadn't been expecting.

It seemed he had lied earlier when he'd told his student that Rean had beaten _all _his modules.

"Now or never, apprentice," Starkiller's voice said grimly, igniting a pair of lightsabers. "Show me your skill with Form VII, or your sister dies."

Before he could even object to suddenly being thrust into yet another duel, PROXY charged toward him, lightsabers humming wildly as they swung through the air.

-o-o-o-

Jar'Kai against Jar'Kai. Shien against Shien. Ataru against Ataru.

Student against teacher.

They knew each other's movements well. Rean had based his style off Starkiller's own, while PROXY had plenty of experience analysing both his student's _and _his master's preferred methods of combat.

Rean knew that if he wanted to win, then the wild and rapid staccato of Juyo was his only hope, but –

He raised his left hand in a high guard yet again, fending off the downward swing of Starkiller's right lightsaber. He tried to drag the weapon in his right hand in a sweeping arc across his body, utilising the strengths of the reverse-grip variant of the Shien form, but PROXY already had his lightsaber at the ready. The block turned into a riposte that was hastily fended off, and Rean was forced to take a few steps backward under the weight that PROXY had put behind his blow.

"You can't win with this style, apprentice!" he boomed. "Harness your strength – show me your fear, your passion, your _desire _to save your sister – show me _Juyo!"_

He tried to think of any other option. He knew that the movements alone weren't sufficient for victory. He needed the emotion within, the spark that would set off the flame of the forbidden lightsaber form.

…he really didn't have a choice, did he?

He took a deep breath, extinguished one of his lightsabers – he wasn't going to attempt a double-saber variant when he could barely use the form with one – and dove into the dark pit he'd restrained himself from venturing into ever since his first true duel with PROXY.

The shadows came at him readily. _Power_, they promised. _Victory over his foes._

All for the price of his servitude.

No. He was in control here. He suppressed their tempting cries and seductive whispers, focusing on the essence within. He thought of Elise, and the fear of losing her. The rage he'd felt at the deaths he witnessed. He thought about what he would do to keep her safe, and the Force answered.

Passion.

He shifted his stance, placing his right foot backward, body crouched low.

Strength.

He leapt forward, lightsaber singing through the air as he raced toward PROXY.

Power.

He drew his arm back, then thrust it forward, committing everything he had into the battle.

_Victory._

– and through victory…

"…_my chains are broken."_

With a single strike, his one blade met two of PROXY's own, and though his biological body lacked the strength of PROXY's mechanical ones, his Force-bolstered might was sufficient to force the droid backward.

This was his answer. Here was the balance between dark and light; paradoxical, an impossibility in being, but it was the truth of the Unifying Force. He hated the way it felt to him, a million tendrils crawling around his being, but if the power of the Dark Side could keep those he loved safe, then _so be it_.

"Very good," PROXY praised, resetting his stance. "Now, we fight."

No more words were necessary. He executed the movements he'd trained for over the past two years, meticulously committed to memory but never before having had the sheer requirement of using them as he was currently facing. _Elise's life hangs in the balance._

He no longer consciously tracked his lightsaber, didn't even offer input on how he should move. The Force guided him. His mind was calm, but the sea within churned with the waves of the Force. This was what it meant to truly use Juyo, and it was intoxicating yet unbearably difficult. At any moment, he could tip over the edge, draw just even a _fraction _too much or too little of the passion within, and ruin the chaotic harmony that had been created.

How could a Jedi like Master Windu ever have mastered this form?! His willpower must have been extraordinary.

Fortunately for him, he didn't need to maintain that balance for long. Within moments of the onslaught he could scarcely remember, a final strike sliced the hilt of one of PROXY's lightsabers in two, while a second elaborate movement of his lightsaber forced PROXY off-balance, allowing him to retrieve his second saber with a pull from the Force.

For the second time that day, the point of his blade rested inches – no, _rege_ (he really needed to remember the units of measurement that Zemuria used) – from his instructor's neck.

"I win."

"You do indeed, apprentice." PROXY's voice returned to its usual tone as Starkiller disappeared. "That was a fine display of Juyo."

He had done it, hadn't he?

"It wasn't fair," Rean admitted honestly. "I was thinking of Elise… and how I _needed _to succeed here…"

"And that is the crux of Form VII. Commitment, resolve, and a passion to see it through," PROXY said, picking up the separated pieces of his lightsaber. Rean felt guilty at that. "What you described is _exactly _what it takes to truly master the form."

Juyo. How terrifying it was. Even if he knew he _could_ control it, he had been so close to letting its primal energy and vigour overwhelm him. That form was best left used as a last resort.

"Congratulations are in order, apprentice." Rean looked at PROXY, who was now staring at him directly in the eye. "You can finally return home."

All the emotion he'd kept in check returned all at once, and he felt so overwhelmed that he slumped over onto his knees. Home…

"Apprentice?" PROXY asked, concerned. "Rean?"

Startled, he looked at his instructor. "You called me Rean."

"It is your name, is it not?"

"You _never_ call me Rean."

"First time for everything, I suppose." PROXY shrugged. "You aren't technically an apprentice anymore. I'll bring you back on-planet as soon as you're ready. Only took you _eight years_, instead of the five or fewer it would have taken if you hadn't been so kriffing scared of the Dark Side."

This was really happening. His exile was coming to an end.

"PROXY."

"Hmm?"

He stepped toward his instructor, holding his hand out as they'd done in that first meeting eight years ago, when he'd tried attacking him with his fists. Ah, how ridiculous he'd been back then.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "Really."

"Don't go sentimental on me now, kid." PROXY snorted, but accepted the handshake. "You've got a long road ahead of you, and Master has high expectations of you. I'm only –"

PROXY momentarily struggled with something, then shook his head. "Ah, blast it."

He moved forward suddenly, and wrapped his arms around Rean in a tight hug. Rean watched, both amused and bemused, as PROXY refused to let go, making sounds that _almost_ mimicked faint sobbing but was frankly disturbing from the droid.

Finally, the droid relented, and stepped back.

"I'm going to miss you, Rean."

"You can come with me," Rean offered. He was going to miss his only companion for… _wow_, close to half his life now. This turn of events was _very _sudden.

"My place is with my Master, in the stars," PROXY said, shaking his head. "I'll take you back planetside and bring the _Shadow _back on the moon to hibernate." He smiled wryly. "Who knows, maybe some day when your backward civilization finally invents space travel, your descendants might find me."

"I…" Rean trailed off, unsure of what to say. Instead, he just repeated what he'd already told PROXY. "Thank you."

"Don't sweat it, brat. I'm the one who kidnapped you." PROXY smirked, before schooling his expression into seriousness. "If you're willing to listen to a word of advice?"

"Shoot." PROXY's advice _usually _tended to be sound.

"Don't go around swinging that weapon if your society hasn't invented anything close to a lightsaber." He pointed to the pair of lightsabers by his hip. "Starkiller escaped Kamino and brought Darth Vader's wrath down on the woman he loved. Galen Marek was taken from Kashyyyk because of his connection with the Force."

PROXY was more serious than Rean had seen him be before. "My point is, kid: your enemies will do _anything _to take you down. If Rean Schwarzer fights against them, then your family becomes an obvious target."

Rean narrowed his eyes. He wouldn't let that happen. But then…

"But how can I protect Elise?"

"I thought I taught you better than that, apprentice," PROXY said disapprovingly. "Think."

He couldn't just recklessly use the strength he'd gained while training with Starkiller and PROXY, because that would attract attention. If he interfered with the events he'd seen in his vision, they would attack his family.

So then, the obvious solution was –

"I cannot be Rean Schwarzer," he said slowly. PROXY nodded just as gravely. "To protect my family, they and everyone else cannot know that I exist."

He laughed bitterly, volume rising into a crescendo as PROXY placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "After all these years… I finally get to return home, but…"

"I'm sorry, Rean," PROXY said uncharacteristically softly. "Really, I am."

"I know. It's not your fault. It's just…" Rean trailed off, sighing. "I suppose I'll need a disguise, then."

"About that, apprentice…" With that, PROXY coughed almost shyly. "Follow me."

He led a curious Rean to the cockpit of the starship, with a locked cabinet that belonged to his late master. He could open it with the Force, certainly, but he respected his master enough not to breach his privacy. Now, PROXY tapped a few buttons on its interactive display, and the door flew open.

Inside, he saw several items that immediately caught his attention.

"Is that –"

"Indeed." PROXY nodded. "These are my master's belongings that he left behind for the day you finally completed your training."

Wordlessly, he handed the items over one by one ceremoniously, and Rean accepted them with equal gravitas. First were a twin pair of swords he recognised as vibroblades. No less dangerous than a lightsaber when activated, but even without that they could function just as well as any other ordinary blade. PROXY had mentioned how his master had made use of them during missions that required a finer level of subtlety. They would serve him well.

There were the dull metal vambraces and shoulder-guards Starkiller had worn, robes he'd received from Rahm Kota, and disguises he'd worn in his earlier missions. He gingerly placed the bounty hunter helmet with clear Mandalorian influences aside, one of many items that should help hide his identity once he returned, even if his facial features had changed greatly from the child he'd been.

And then finally –

"His lightsabers," he breathed.

No words were required. PROXY handed them over, and he gratefully accepted, igniting the pair.

One blue, and one red. Jedi and Sith. Light and Dark. Starkiller, and Galen Marek.

Neither.

He extinguished them, and placed them by his new tactical belt. "I'll use them well."

"I have no doubt about that. You already have his old speeder as well, of course." PROXY moved to the pilot seat. "Now, then. I hope you're ready to return home."

-o-o-o-

He adjusted the helmet as he sat in the cockpit, watching in awe as they drew closer to Zemuria. From up in the atmosphere, what seemed to once be a grand and unfathomably large continent now felt minuscule. Had anyone alive or dead ever seen a sight like this before?

In the distance, he could see his homeland, the icy northern mountain ranges surrounding Ymir a white patch against the vast grasslands. He felt a pang of mixed emotions in his heart, near-impossible to dissect; pain and joy mixed in equal measure.

Rean Schwarzer was dead, he told himself. He couldn't return to his old life anymore. This was for the best.

How different would his life have been, had he not ventured out of Ymir and gotten lost in the blizzard eight years ago? Would he ever have discovered the ways of the Force? Would it have been him, instead, training under the tutelage of Elise's mysterious instructor?

What had happened since he'd been gone? Had his parents ever reclaimed the respect they'd lost among their peers from their act of adopting someone who was essentially a stray commoner? Had his disappearance been a blessing to them?

Unknowing of his student's thoughts, PROXY continued operating the starship, gently cruising over the continent as they searched for a suitable location to land.

"You'll want to treasure this moment, kid," PROXY commented by his side, idly thumbing at the controls. "You won't experience this again in your life, unless your primitive society somehow gets its head out of the sand."

The _Rogue Shadow _was cloaked, flying down toward one of the more remote regions of the Erebonian countryside where he would disembark with what belongings had been passed down to him. While he was thankful for the Force vision and being given a chance to intervene in what was a threat not only to his loved ones, but Erebonia as a whole, he wished he had more directions to go on than just an _image _of a city and a vague sense of festivity.

"Maybe I'll invent a starship and visit you on the moon," he suggested cheekily.

The droid snorted. "_You _can hardly even fix your speeder on your own without my help. The day you invent a starship will be the day rancors fly."

Fair point. Though PROXY had tried giving lessons in the finer details of technology millennia more advanced than what he had come across in Erebonia, it was just so far out of his scope of understanding that the droid had abandoned that plan years ago. Beyond maintenance of his lightsabers and his speederbike, there wasn't much else he knew about technology of the greater galaxy beyond.

They were flying rapidly over the Nord Highlands now – or at least what he _thought _was the Nord Highlands, from what little he remembered of geography lessons. It was a mountainous region, lush with nature and wildlife, virtually untouched by the rapid industrial development of recent history. From up high, it was truly a sight to behold.

"Wow," he breathed.

PROXY glanced at him for a moment, before looking back toward the front. "Your call, apprentice. Where do you want to land?"

He thought for a moment. He asked the Force for guidance, for direction and clarity. He tried to picture what he had seen before, begging it to steer him toward where he could intervene in the events he had foreseen.

It was faint – but he felt a faint stirring within.

"South."

PROXY looked at him curiously, but did as he was bidden. The ship banked toward the left, altering its course as it headed deeper into the heart of Erebonia.

"Scanners indicate several cities in this direction," PROXY noted. "We'll need to find somewhere quiet."

Rean nodded, searching with both his eyes and the Force for a suitable location. There were some towns and cities he thought he had seen on maps before, but many more he hadn't. After so long up on the moon with nothing but his routine, suddenly being given so much freedom and being caught by indecision felt so paradoxically suffocating.

"How about there?" He pointed. There were a few settlements nearby, but it was far away enough that the _Shadow _could uncloak and allow him to disembark.

PROXY studied the display for a moment – probably an eternity to a droid – before he shrugged. "Good enough."

With that, the _Shadow _began to descend, and just minutes later they touched down onto solid ground below. PROXY stood up, heading toward the exit, and beckoned for Rean to follow.

They walked in silence. Rean felt… _conflicted. _Everything had changed so suddenly, just as it had done eight years ago. Just as he had missed his family so dearly back then, he knew that PROXY's absence would hit him hard.

Possibly _worse_, since he couldn't sense the droid through the Force as easily as he could his family. The goodbye that approached rapidly with each footstep would be forever.

His lightsabers were tucked by his belt, hidden under the Jedi robes that Starkiller had handed down to Rean. He wore his master's signature bracers and shoulder-plates, along with the Mandalorian helmet that should hopefully obscure any link he had with Rean Schwarzer. The vibroblades were placed in their sheathes across his back.

It was a chaotic mismatch of attire, but it worked.

Both of them left the ship, stepping down on the grass and dirt below, a complete juxtaposition to the hard rock that marked the moon's surface. He relished in the feeling, allowing himself to be lost in the moment. He stretched his senses out, feeling the sheer magnitude of _life_ that stretched for miles – selge, rather – in all directions.

He was truly home.

"So…" he finally said. "This is goodbye, then."

"So it seems."

"Are you sure you don't want to follow me?"

"My place is with Starkiller, apprentice."

Neither of them seemed willing to part. At last, he extended his hand once more to PROXY, and they shook a final goodbye.

"I'll really miss you, PROXY." He gripped his mechanical hand tightly. "Thank you for all your teaching."

The droid grunted. "You better not let me _or _the master down. And for the Force's sake, stop being so squeamish with Juyo."

"I'll try my best," he half-promised. He knew now that he _could _control the overwhelming power and passion of the Dark Side, except that it took an enormous amount of willpower and perseverance. "Don't worry about –"

A lance of pain spiked at him, and he fell over, gasping as another sight assaulted his vision.

_A dragon made of bone and rage. An aberration in the Force. Death._

_Elise. Fear. Determination. Pain._

_Screams and panic in the streets, terror and confusion –_

The images faded, leaving him with only a throbbing ache in his head.

"Again?" PROXY asked.

It felt different, now. More urgent. In fact…

He stretched his senses out, dispersing himself within the Force. All life was connected through the Force, and as he roamed…

"It's happening _now,"_ he realised, horrified.

"You need to go," PROXY said seriously, handing over the pack of minor supplies that had been left aboard the _Shadow;_ medpacs, spare parts and remnants of synthesized food. He detached the bike where it had been stowed in one of the compartments by the starship's side.

"But –"

"GO!"

He was still reluctant, but the situation demanded immediate attention. He took his place on the modified speederbike's driver seat. With a final nod, he moved, forcing its thrusters to maximum speed as the countryside blurred past him. He didn't even _know_ where he was going, trusting fully in the Force to guide him as he steered the vehicle.

Above, he could feel the faintest of presences through the Force, the cloaked Starship slowing momentarily as it passed by, a final unsaid parting between student and teacher.

_I'll do you proud, PROXY. I'll make sure Starkiller's legacy lives on._

Erebonia was far smaller than he remembered, but then again, he supposed anything would feel small when traveling at such speeds. Within minutes, untouched grassland gave way to villages, and he'd caught sight of shocked farmers tending to their farmland as he shot past them, his vehicle hovering a reasonable distance above the ground.

In the distance, there was a grand city, now, and even with his long exile he remembered enough to know just what it was.

Heimdallr, the Vermillion Capital, and the jewel of Erebonia. Seventeen districts, spreading outward from Valflame Palace that towered over all else in its centre, with a population of over eight hundred thousand.

There was a wrongness within. A sense of panic; a brewing storm. As he rode past the entrance to the city, not giving pause to the clearly distressed guards mobilising around, his heart and mind were focused only on one objective.

_Elise_. He had to find out what the Force had been warning him of.

The bike tore through the city streets, moving deeper into its heart. Power had been disrupted to that sector of the city, he noted. Water was spewing out of manholes in the ground – a sight he hadn't seen for _years _– and was quickly flooding the streets. Sabotage?

He continued following his senses, until he met his first roadblock.

Simply put, the density of panicked people was too high for him to ride past on his speederbike.

He swore, then halted his vehicle, securing it to activate only to his biological signature as had been reprogrammed by PROXY. At least the destination didn't feel far to him, now. The presence of wrongness felt closer, almost pulsating to him in the Force. He absently touched his face, making sure the helmet that disguised his identity remained on, before drawing his blades and moving as a blur past the dense crowds, leaping along the sides of walls and even atop buildings.

_There. _A grand park, vast and well-maintained, and at its heart –

A garden of crystal, just as he'd seen in his vision. He rushed toward the location, vaulting off lamp-posts and benches, preserving momentum even as he changed directions. He paused when he finally neared close enough to see what was going on.

The place was filled with monsters. Shouts of panic and commanding orders filled the air.

"Reinforce the east entrance!"

"The west is overrun!"

"We need reinforcements!"

"The princess –" the shout abruptly turned into a grunt of pain and a gurgle, other cries of alarm soon following.

He barely hesitated to consider the situation before leaping into the fray. One formation was being swarmed with monsters, and he wasn't going to stand by and watch the soldiers die. He wasn't exactly used to fighting with a vibroblade, the balance notably different compared to a lightsaber, but it was similar enough to one in principle.

'_Cut with sharp end' _wasn't exactly complicated.

His pair of blades gleamed as they caught the waning evening rays of sunlight, blades flashing as they tore through the monsters in his path. They would have been fearsome to him as a child, but now their movements felt so _sluggish _compared to what he or PROXY could pull off it was almost laughable. The sword in his left hand sliced cleanly through a large, dog-like creature with a gaping maw, bisecting it cleanly across the belly. He pirouetted, conserving the energy of his rotation, leaping and slashing at another foe, a large reptile that looked almost as though a _very _miniature krayt dragon.

As he had done innumerous times before, he lost himself into the battle, moving as he had trained and conditioned his mind and body to do. After all those years under PROXY, this was natural to him now.

The line of monsters was slowly but surely being broken. The soldiers were beginning to rally, having been given space to reorganise from his distraction.

"Who are you?" The officer demanded when he'd finally cut a path to their position, his rifle trained directly on Rean. It was laughable; he could probably block any bullet he fired just as easily as he could deflect blaster fire.

"A friend," he insisted. Boy, was it bizarre finally talking to another living and breathing human who wasn't PROXY. "What's going on?"

"_We don't know_ is what's going on," one of his subordinates spat, grimacing as he clutched at a wound on his shoulder, blood oozing beneath his palm. "We received reports of an irregularity in Dreichel Plaza, when all of a sudden these damned monsters appeared out of nowhere and attacked us."

"We've requested for reinforcements from the RMP, but they're still some distance away." The captain put his rifle away now, keeping an eye out for approaching monsters. "With your assistance, we might be able to hold them off, and get to the Crystal Garden."

He stilled. The sense of urgency came once more at the mention of the garden he'd seen.

"What's happening over there?"

"We don't know," the officer replied grimly. "We heard an explosion coming from there after the monsters appeared. A bunch of students from Thors went on ahead earlier to investigate, but with these damned creatures not stopping we can't lend any assistance."

Students. Thors Military Academy. He had no way of knowing whether or not his prediction was right, but he _knew _without a doubt that he needed to get there.

_Elise._

"I need to go on ahead," he said, glancing over the officers. They were a little worse for the wear, but still seemed to be in fighting shape. "Can you hold your position until reinforcements arrive?"

"You can get through all _that_ alone?" the officer queried doubtfully, pointing at the sizable number of monsters between them and the garden. "No offense, your skills are impressive, but it's best to wait for help."

The wave of warning returned again, stronger in magnitude. Something was happening _now._

"I need to go."

He barely listened to the protests of the man before he sprinted onward, deftly leaping over obstacles in his path. Never had he been so glad to have pursued the path of Ataru in emulating Starkiller's style.

Of course, he lent what assistance he could, throwing his vibroblades in an arc as they sliced through several of the reptilian creatures before returning to his waiting hand when he landed. He felt some of their presences dissipate in the Force, while others had been clearly injured or crippled. Hopefully that should be enough to even the scales, because he doubted he could spare any more time than he'd already done clearing a path.

Avoiding monsters where he could and cutting down only those that were in his direct route to the crystal structure, he made his way to where the Force guided him. A crowd had gathered – mostly people dressed in finery, he realised – and at the head of the crowd several teenagers were facing off against more of the monsters that were slowly emerging from a massive hole in the ground.

He vaulted over the heads of people, kicking off the walls of the structure to gain distance, making his way over the dense crowd caught between monsters in front and behind of them. The duelists in front were clearly struggling, their forms more fit for structured _duels _than outright fighting. Just behind them, a green-haired bespectacled man was kneeling on the ground, clutching an injured shoulder, looking on helplessly with frustration.

In the instant he remained airborne, he glanced over the situation, made an assessment, and struck. He landed atop a monster, both blades sinking deep into its flesh with his alpha strike. Sinew parted beneath durasteel, and he kicked himself off the monster's side, before sending a forceful wave of Force energy that barrelled into the already-dead creature. It was propelled through the air, crashing into another of its peers that had been about to swipe at a blond-haired boy that was fending off the creature defiantly.

The other people were beginning to react to his arrival, but he didn't pause there. Two more monsters remained. He dashed forward, telekinetically pulling his blades out of the dead creature, then leapt and whirled downward between sharp claws and wide jaws. To an outsider, it may have seemed as though he'd barely avoided a brush with death, but he knew through the Force that he'd been completely safe.

Now between two of the monsters, he slashed at the hide of one of them, then turned, sinking his other blade deep into its flesh, before pivoting yet again, dragging the creature along with him. Its body formed a shield against the other monster's claws, and he hid back a smile within his helmet as he released a Force Push at the perfectly aligned bodies of the two beasts. They crumpled against the wall with a resounding _crack,_ and did not rise.

He looked over at the gathered people. Now that he took the time to take in their appearances, he knew just who they were.

Nobles. Their attire told him everything he needed to know.

"Patrick! Are you all alright?" he heard someone say.

"What in Aidios' name –" the blonde student gaped, his fencing foil held loosely in a gloved hand. Behind, some in the crowd were exchanging whispers and pointing fingers, but he could scarcely care less about them right now.

He looked toward the downed man, who was slowly pushing himself to his feet, gazing at Rean's masked face warily. "You…"

He couldn't spare the time on this. "Where are the students?"

The man's face sharpened, his vision refocusing on Rean. "They went on through there to pursue the terrorists. Are you –"

Without waiting for any further word, he leapt into the hole, ignoring the shouts of alarm at his back.

Barely an hour since his return, and already thrust into the thick of action. Good thing PROXY wasn't around to laugh at his misfortune.

-o-o-o-

She panted in exhaustion as she held her tachi by her hip, settling into the posture that marked the second form of the Eight Leaves. Her right foot was placed forward, blade angled low, ready to be swung at high speeds as though swept by a _Gale _that marked the form's name.

"Elliot!" she heard Laura shout, but she couldn't spare the time to glance over at the first friend she'd made in Thors. As things were, she was having enough trouble trying to dodge the dragon made of bone that the one who had kidnapped Princess Alfin had somehow managed to raise.

Machias was already down. Elliot had tried to make his way over to him to cast a healing art on him with one of his water quartz, with Fie and herself attempting to divert its attention, but the dragon was making things difficult for them. How was it even able to maintain its attacks on so many of them at once?

"Come on and face me!" Laura bellowed, her greatsword raised high, charging toward the dragon yet again.

Of course, at the same time, Fie offered her own input, somehow remaining calm in the midst of the uphill battle, the deep breaths that punctuated her words the only sign of weakness. "We… need to regroup, and find its weakness."

Things weren't looking good. It wasn't just that the damn dragon simply wouldn't die; her group was having enough internal troubles as they were. She'd thought that Fie and Laura would have somehow managed to patch things up during their field trip to Heimdallr, but for all her group's efforts they still couldn't see eye to eye on many issues. They were entirely out of sync, their combat links broken, and it clearly showed in this battle.

"ELISE!" Elliot warned. "Your left!"

She jumped backward, startled, just barely avoiding being caught by a sweep of the dragon's long tail. Damn it. She was getting tired, but that was no excuse to lose her concentration during a battle. She retaliated, swinging her blade at hard as she could, using the strength of her rotation as she'd been taught, but for all her efforts she only barely chipped a small piece of bone off from the unholy creature.

Every effort counted. Laura and Fie were making their own progress, but it was slow. She danced away from the dragon, who now turned its attention to Laura who was hacking away furiously at it.

"Thanks Ell-" she turned, glancing toward him, and her eyes widened. "BEHIND YOU!"

He had been kneeling over Machias' body, his eyes closed in concentration after having warned Elise of the incoming attack, and didn't notice how the dragon had slyly feinted an attack on Laura, while disguising its true objective. With its tail, it slammed down on Elliot, hard, sending both him and Machias by his side flying away.

"Elliot! Machias!"

That was enough for Laura to lose her concentration. For an instant, she halted her assault, and the dragon took advantage of her lapse in attention. Its body head lurched outward, impacting against Laura, and the breath was driven out of her lungs from the force of its attack. She stumbled backward, her back against the wall of the cavern that the mysterious assailant who had orchestrated this whole mess had retreated to, supporting herself against her greatsword.

Two of her group were down, and the other three weren't faring much better. Retreat was a good option, but that would mean that Princess Alfin would –

No. She couldn't abandon her the same way she had Rean.

"Laura!" She ran toward her, ready to offer assistance despite her exhaustion. "Fie! Get Elliot and Machias!"

"What about you?" Fie kicked off from one of the walls, passing over by her. A thick stream of blood could be seen trickling down the side of her cheek, courtesy of a nasty gash from one of the dragon's bony claws.

"I'll support Laura and buy time; get them revived!"

Fie nodded, agilely darting over to her friends, a bottle already in her hands. This was their best option for survival and defeating the dragon, but –

"Gah!" Laura hissed, as the dragon smacked her aside once again, her feeble guard unable to withstand the strength of its blow. She slid across the floor, the shadow of the dragon's tail hanging overhead, and Elise hurriedly dragged her away just barely in time before it would have severely injured her.

"Thanks… Elise…" she panted. She tried drawing on her greatsword, but her tortured muscles just refused to bear the weight of her massive weapon.

"Get yourself healed before fighting," Elise ordered firmly.

"I can still fight –"

"You can barely stand," she snapped. Powerful though her classmate may be, that headstrong attitude would only get her killed. "Get back!"

She needed to buy time. That was the only strategy they had. She changed her form into a more defensive one, standing defiantly in front of Laura. She fought back her nerves as the dragon reared to attack once more, sweat pooling in her palms as she gripped the hilt of her blade with both hands. She would only have the smallest of windows to counterattack –

Perhaps had she been more alert, her body less weathered by the battle and the many monsters they had to cut through during their pursuit of their enemy, she might have been able to react in time. Fatigued as she was, however, she saw the strike coming, but her body twisted aside just a moment too slowly.

The dragon's claws grabbed her foot, and she felt herself being raised into the air, brought into a tight grip by the monster. Her nerves screamed in pain, but she continued struggling anyway. She would _not _give up.

"ELISE!" she heard Machias shout. Good, Fie must have gotten him and Elliot back on their feet. Perhaps they would now have a chance –

Before she could finish that thought, she felt herself lurching through the air, before impacting hard against the ground below. She heard the sound of something snapping, moments before the pain finally registered.

Damn. Her right leg was definitely broken now. She couldn't see clearly, her vision blurred in the wake of the impact. Even her ears were ringing, slowly fading away to the sound of her classmates shouting and mobilising.

"- get away from her!" She caught the tail-end of Fie shouting, the sounds of her gunswords mixed alongside the louder shots of Machias' shotgun.

The dragon barely paused. A shadow loomed over her. She couldn't move. She was dimly aware of the sounds of battle, but in that instant everything else seemed to fade away.

The chances that she would survive were looking bleak. Looks like she was going to join Rean soon.

_Sorry mother, father._

She closed her eyes, thinking of her brother's face. A small smile graced her bloodstained lips, and she accepted her fate, awaiting the final blow.

When seconds passed and she didn't feel herself being crushed by the dragon's mighty tail or wings, she opened her eyes in confusion. The world returned to her in a rush of light and sound, and she felt herself being dragged across the floor…

"Elise!" Elliot was by her side, his voice laced with worry. On her left, Laura had made her way over as well, limping with the assistance of her greatsword.

"What… happened?" she tried asking, but it came out as barely a croak. Now that she thought about it, everything _hurt._

"Don't try to talk," Elliot urged, and she could feel him exposing her injured leg. She hissed as a lance of pain spiked through her. "I'll try and get you patched up, but –"

"Never mind that," she coughed. "Focus… on… the dragon!"

"I think he's got that handled," Fie said from somewhere behind her. She tried to turn and look toward her, but her body protested even against that.

"Who?"

"Him," Machias said, and she could just barely make out him pointing a finger. She tried following where he had been gesturing toward, shifting her position just slightly.

_Something _was moving about rapidly around the dragon, and she could hear the sound of blades hacking at it, just as she'd become accustomed to over the course of the prolonged battle. Now, however, the dragon was _roaring_, as though in pain.

"What…?"

"I think that's what we're trying to figure out at well," Machias said. "He appeared out of nowhere, and –"

It was then that _he_ crossed the distance of the chamber to where they had temporarily found reprieve, disengaging from the dragon with a single leap.

"What in Aidios' name are you waiting for?!" a heavily distorted voice snapped. "Get out of here!"


	4. Chapter 4

He had arrived just in the nick of time to see Elise about to be turned into paste by a _kriffing_, honest-to-the-Goddess reanimated _dragon._

He had thought their reunion would have been a heartwarming affair. After eight years of separation, her and their parents' spirits in the Force had been the only links he had with Erebonia while on the moon. He thought that they would have met under vastly different circumstances.

Watching his sister nearly _die _wasn't something he'd fathomed.

In that instant, rage had temporarily overwhelmed him, and he welcomed its power. That boost of speed had enabled him to send a wave of Force that launched the dragon backward – whatever means its clearly undead form had been reanimated by didn't allow it flight – and he followed up on his opening by leaping and slashing with both vibroblades.

For several tens of seconds, his body moved on autopilot, anger taking ahold of his limbs. Its bones were durable, but the Force was greater still. It had only been when the rage had diminished slightly and he once again regained hold of his senses that he noticed Elise and her classmates were _still _here.

Those idiots! He slashed in a spiral arc with both swords as he leapt into the air, and with another _push _of the Force, he sent the dragon crashing against the cavern wall, using the momentum to soar through the air toward where Elise and the others were.

"What in Aidios' name are you waiting for?! Get out of here!"

By the Force, it was a wonder they even remained standing. Two of the boys were supporting each other, while the other girls were barely even staying on their feet. As for his sister…

Elise's leg was bent at an odd angle, although the orange-haired boy was doing his best to heal her. It was an art that he was casting, he recognised from his time in Ymir many years before, although now he could feel the subtle waves of the Force as it coursed through him and the quartz in his device to his sister, fueling her body's recovery.

This was hardly the time to link orbal theory with the Force, he chided himself. Why were these students just standing around for?!

"Who are you?" the blue-haired girl asked. A defiant spirit burned in her eyes, but he hardly had the time to analyse her at present.

"Should you really be asking that?" He looked back toward the dragon, who was now recovering from having been slammed against the hard stones. "Hurry up and retreat!"

"Not without the princess!"

"_Bantha shit,"_ he swore. On the other side of the chamber, he now noticed a group of men holding rifles, with one in the lead holding _something _that practically pulsed with wrongness in the Force. He followed its trail, sensing the connection between it and the now-recovered dragon, who was charging once more toward him.

He leapt into the air, tossing his vibroblades at the dragon, guiding them through the Force as they spun and screeched through the air toward the dragon's wings. He didn't pause, kicking off against the wall behind him. The saber throw was but a distraction, meant to draw the attention of those who were holding an unconscious girl who he assumed was the princess.

"Wha –" one of them began saying, but he had already cut the distance between them with a burst of Force Speed.

"Get him!" the one holding the device ordered, more alert than his underlines. From this distance he could now tell that it was a flute that was oozing this sense of undeath.

Priorities. With his bare fists, he punched the one holding the princess, then swept him from below with an outstretched leg. He dove forward, catching her before she fell to the ground, holding her tight to his chest as he rolled to avoid the gunshots that now echoed across the cavern.

"Don't fire, you imbeciles!" their leader ordered. "We need the princess alive!"

That made things easier for him. He mentally tugged on one of the vibroblades that had been lying discarded on the ground after severing one of the dragon's wings, the beast too slow to avoid both his blades, smirking beneath his helmet as shouts of surprise rang out at his display of the Force.

"CATCH!"

With that, he _threw _the unconscious princess unceremoniously through the air, guiding her in a path that avoided the now-mobilising still unknown enemies that hadn't expected him to relinquish her. On the opposite side, by the entrance to the cavern, the students were beginning to react, realising the plan he had in mind.

Just before she would have collided against the waiting arms of the shotgun-wielding one, he slowed her down slightly, allowing him to catch her without being sent bowling over by the human-projectile, injured as he was.

Even then, they _still _hesitated to leave.

"GO!"

"But –"

"Stop them!"

Orders were being shouted around, his arrival having thrown the battle into chaos. Shots were being fired, and he leapt between the students and their assailants, both blades now in his hands, deflecting bullets where he could with Starkiller's dual Shien form. Thank the Force he had chosen to pursue a style that excelled at deflecting blaster fire.

"Get going!" he shouted, his blades a blur as he twirled and dashed around. Blocking bullets aimed at himself was one thing, covering the others was another issue entirely. "I can't protect you all _and _fight at the same time!"

That was something that his education under PROXY had completely failed to address. In all his training, he had fought by himself, his own survival and victory his only concern. His lightsaber forms didn't work well in a situation like this where he had to cover for others, worsened by the fact that he didn't want to actually switch out his vibroblades for his more familiar weapon just yet. There were far too many things he still didn't know, principle of which was just _who _these people were, and how Elise had been caught into this mess.

That finally drove the students to begin fleeing, although he sensed worryemanating from them as they limped as fast as they could away from the battle. Elise certainly found a decent bunch to call her allies.

Now, then, it was just him against a dragon and a bunch of people with guns.

Meh. About par for the course for any Jedi or Sith from the stories his master had told him, really.

"Shoot him!"

He shifted his stance, transitioning into the more acrobatic movements of Ataru. Without a need to cover their retreat, and with the large open space of the cavern, he could simply outmaneuver their bullets without much difficulty.

Blaster fire travelled _much _faster than projectiles propelled by gunpowder, after all.

He placed the dragon between himself and the men, preventing them from getting a clear shot. At the same time, he began whittling away at it, tearing it apart at joints held by darkness in the Force rather than flesh or sinew.

He could feel its essence slowly but surely draining away now. Whatever sustained its undeath had a limit.

Only a matter of time before it would fall, then. He had beaten PROXY masquerading as Obi-Wan just earlier that day. This dragon wasn't nearly as invincible as the impenetrable bulwark that was the lightsaber of the master of Form III.

The moments blurred together after that. He wasn't sure how long it took before the energy sustaining the creature finally faded, or how many times his blades had shattered the many bony appendages of the dragon as they flashed and twirled through the vast cavern, fully utilising its space to Ataru's advantage in acrobatics. As it was in his many duels with PROXY, once he immersed himself fully into the battle, he simply moved on instinct, his mind shifting through the many sequences that had been drilled into him by both his instructor and in his own personal practice.

He could have activated his vibroblades at any time to boost its cutting potency, yes, but that was an avenue he wanted remained open to him. He was already attracting enough attention as it was with his (as far as he knew) unseen form of swordsmanship and use of the Force; he hardly wanted to boast of using a weapon containing technology quite literally from the stars themselves.

The dragon shattered into its constituent pieces, and with a final flourish of his hands – a trick that Starkiller had taught him in one of his recordings, first developed by ancient Jedi simply because it looked aesthetically pleasing, and then later as an actual combat sequence known as the _pushing slash _of Niman – fragments of bone were sent flying into the distant wall, crumbling away into coarse dust under the force of the impact.

He didn't give the would-be assailants any time to regain their composure. He brought his other arm out, then drew it sharply back toward his body, elbow bent tightly against his torso, forcefully ripping the flute away from the man's hands with the Force when he had been about to play it once more. In mid-air, as the instrument that thrummed with unnatural energies sailed toward him, a single strike of his vibroblade sliced it cleanly in two, both pieces flying past his shoulders behind him.

Say what you would about Starkiller, but you couldn't deny that his master's teachings had _flair._

He held his right arm out, sword parallel to the ground toward the visibly frustrated man, while the other remained by his side, held in a reverse-grip pointing up behind his back, ready to be drawn for a sweeping defense that was the core of this variant of Shien's strength. Though the men standing by the side of the one who had reanimated the ancient creature had helmets on that masked their features, their stances were visibly uncertain, looking toward their leader for guidance.

They didn't yet speak. Rean didn't know what to do in this situation, having only been a child since he left Ymir, but he'd heard enough from PROXY and Starkiller of how Jedi handled conflicts without bloodshed. Though he didn't quite share in their ideologies, their resolute commitment to violence as a last option was one he admired greatly.

Without any personal experience to draw from, he resolved to emulating what PROXY might have done, were he placed in Rean's shoes.

"You are beaten," he said as calmly as he could. "Please withdraw."

_That _opened the proverbial floodgates.

"_Withdraw?"_ the man repeated, incredulous. "Who are – what do you – who in the Goddess' name _are_ you?"

Rifles were trained on him, now, although they didn't choose to fire just yet. No doubt his earlier partying of bullets in mid-air gave them reason to hesitate.

"I don't have to be your enemy," Rean said slowly. "I don't even know who you are. I'm here for the students, nothing more."

"The students?" Once more, he repeated Rean's words, his tone rising in anger. "You're telling me that you came here – fought the ancient evil sealed beneath Heimdallr, took away the princess, and _ruined _all our carefully-laid plans – just for these Thors _students?!"_

"Yes," Rean said, making a show of slowly lowering his vibroblades by his side. They tensed at his movement, but visibly relaxed once it was obvious he didn't want to provoke another battle just yet. "I don't know what your plans are or why you attacked the Festival. And frankly speaking, I don't care."

Honestly, he meant those words. The only thing that mattered in the visions he'd seen was ensuring Elise's safety.

Perhaps he was more similar to Starkiller than he'd thought, since his master had abandoned the nascent Rebel Alliance to their fate in pursuit of Juno Eclipse after his initial escape from Kamino. It was only after his discovery that Vader had taken her captive that he brought the fight to his former master.

"Mind you, I am livid that you almost killed them."

With that, he deliberately encased himself with a small tinge of the Force, enough to be physically manifest, yet still controllable. It was an intimidation tactic that PROXY had demanded he learn well, beyond its use as an exercise in control during his earlier years of training. The men flinched, no doubt feeling the overwhelming presence that had been conveyed through the Force even if they couldn't consciously wield it.

"But I am willing to overlook that as a misunderstanding," he said, releasing the tension he held over them, but if anything they only became more guarded. Carefully, he knelt down, placing both blades on the ground. If didn't really matter in terms of practicality, since he could simply pull them into his hands in an instant, but it was the meaning behind it that mattered. "So, please, let's start over. Who are you, and –"

He paused. There was the sound of approaching footsteps, and he could sense several moderately powerful Force presences approaching. Damn. He'd been so unused to talking to anyone other than PROXY – not used to fighting with more than a single target, really – that he had failed to keep an awareness of his surroundings. PROXY would have been livid that he let his guard down.

Some of those holding rifles turned toward the sound, but their leader did not falter, keeping his eyes locked on Rean's form. He had to restrain himself from drawing his vibroblades just yet, until he got a sense of what had been going on during his eight years of absence, and _who _these people were.

"Hah!" From up on higher ground where the underground cave system continued, a deep, burly voice rang out as two more individuals came into view. "You've found an interesting one, haven't you, Comrade G?"

G, huh? A cryptic name.

"Comrade V,", 'G' grunted in greeting. "I see Comrade S is with you too."

"No need to sound so unenthusiastic, G," the woman dressed in red with an eyepatch covering one eye said dryly. She turned toward Rean, regarding him curiously. "And who is this lovely fellow we have here?"

There was a pregnant pause at that, and he belatedly realised he was meant to introduce himself. Damn, he'd truly been out of touch with civilisation for far too long.

He couldn't introduce himself by his real name, of course, and so he gave the alias that came at the top of his mind.

"Galen Marek. Nice to meet you."

He could practically hear PROXY laughing from the moon. _Real smooth, Rean._

"Galen, hmm?" she mused, then adopted a teasing tone, although the tension in the air hardly loosened. "And do you say that to every girl you meet?"

He shrugged, ignoring her jibe. Beside her, 'V' chuckled.

"Stop teasing him, S," he said, fiddling with a _massive _gun he held balanced on one shoulder. "Well then, Galen Marek. You must be quite something, to singlehandedly hold off a monster like that. Wish I could have seen it in person."

He pointed at what remnants remained of the bone dragon, chipped away during the battle or otherwise shattered against the wall. Again, Rean shrugged.

"I've faced worse."

"Truly?" S perked up.

He nodded. Fearsome though its teeth and claws may be, they could barely compare to the nearly daily occurrence of his limbs almost being severed by PROXY's lightsabers.

"Enough of this!" G snapped. "V, S, stop with this nonsense! You've ruined all our plans, and for that, you must –"

"Come, now, Comrade G," yet another voice said in a mirthful tone, distorted much like Rean's present one. Instinctively, he tugged on his vibroblades, startled by the presence he hadn't detected. A third figure walked up to join S and V, wearing dark tinted armour of a material Rean couldn't identify, his face obscured by a helmet. "The plan may not have gone as anticipated, but not everything has been ruined."

"Comrade C!" G stiffened, finally turning to look at the newcomer.

Who was this man? Silently, Rean probed at him through the Force, but he remained an enigma. S, V and to a smaller extent G were raging presences strongly connected to the Force, clearly combatants in their own right.

He wasn't quite used to reading the emotions of others the way those of the Jedi order had been trained to do, separated from the world as he had been during his training, but there was no mistaking the sense of righteous indignation and vengeance that stemmed from a deep, _deep _sorrow within. Strangely, he didn't even get the impression that they intended him any harm presently, more interested in feeling him out the same way he was doing with them.

'Comrade C' was another matter entirely. His presence felt almost empty, as though it was being masked the same way Jedi Shadows and Sith Assassins were known to do. He couldn't get a sense of his connection with the Force at all, which was absurd because _everything _was linked to the Force. Beneath the veil, however, he could catch just a glimpse of the same sadness, righteousness and anger leaking through to the surface.

Whoever these people were, they were doing what they believed to be _just_. And that was why he was currently perplexed, because their actions seemed to suggest exactly the opposite.

"No need to be so tense, Comrade G," C continued saying, calmly hopping down from the ridge he stood on, slowly walking toward Rean. "Our mission is concluded. There's no need to further sully our image."

"Who _are_ you people, anyway?" Rean finally asked, when the silence stretched on for far too long.

"It is not yet the time to reveal who we are," C spoke on behalf of the group. "Suffice to say, it was not our intention to deal any harm to the princess, to the students of Class VII or to you. They were, unfortunately, in the path of our ultimate goal."

"Class VII?" he asked curiously.

"Ah." C tilted his head just slightly to the side. "So you know that they are students of Thors, and interfere in our plans _specifically _on their behalf, but you don't know the class they come from. Curious."

He cursed under his breath. It seemed too much of PROXY's influence had rubbed off on him, if he was making quips like that in a situation like this.

From up above, V snorted. "Told you he was an interesting one."

"Indeed," C said. "Well then, Galen. I don't suppose you would be willing to share just how you came to end up here?" He idly gestured around the cavern, his tone conveying a sense of dry humour.

Rean considered the question. The child who was Rean Schwarzer was dead, lost in the blizzard eight years prior. If he _was_ going to go ahead with his impromptu persona as Galen Marek, he would need a proper backstory.

"I'm from the East," he blatantly lied, the words flowing from what he could remember of the geography of Zemuria and what he had seen from up high on the _Rogue Shadow. _"And before you ask, that's _very _far to the east. I've been traveling around, and heard of the festival in Heimdallr when I stumbled across monsters in the park. From there, I came across a bunch of nobles, who told me students were in pursuit of a princess' abductors."

"The summer festival's reputation must truly precede itself, to spread that far out of Erebonia. You hail from the east, hmm?" C gave no indication as to whether or not he believed his account mixed with truth and lies.

Rean nodded, committing to his lie, coming up with names on the spot. "The village of Kamino, within the province of Naboo."

Ah, how PROXY would have laughed, if he only knew what his apprentice was currently doing.

Up above, from the corner of his vision, he could see V frowning. "Can't say that I've ever heard of those."

"Like I said – very far to the east."

"Explains the outfit, I suppose." V grunted. "You a jaeger?"

With his apparel that most distinctly stood out from the regular everyday Erebonian, his equipment unlike even the many jaeger corps operating within the continent, at least part of his lie must have sounded believable. Still, there was no mistaking the armour and weaponry that he wore.

"In a manner of speaking." He'd been trained by Starkiller, a former Sith assassin, and he was currently wearing a bounty hunter's helmet. That was close enough to a jaeger as it got, he supposed.

"Hmm." V made a non-committal noise, and Rean couldn't quite read what he was thinking. His thoughts and emotions were clouded in the Force, yet that deeply-buried sorrow was returning to the fore.

"A man of mystery from the east," S said, tasting the words on her lips. Then, she gave a predatory smile, continuing her earlier teasing. "I like that."

He pointedly ignored that comment. At this point, he suspected that she enjoyed doing that just for the entertainment that came from the reactions of others. Alas, his long years of training and meditation had long since left him capable of at least some degree of control over his emotions. _There is no emotion, there is peace._

Her expression morphed into one of disappointment when he didn't rise to the bait, and once more V chuckled. For people that set chaos to Heimdallr's streets and loosed monsters in the midst of what he now knew to be the summer festival – it made sense, since he had kept track of the passing days while on the moon – they didn't seem all _that_ bad.

He was, of course, contextualising their actions based on the tales of the Galactic Republic that PROXY and Starkiller had regaled him with. In the grand scheme of things, what they'd done wasn't quite on the scale of treachery like the execution of Order Sixty-six or Darth Vader's betrayal of his apprentice to snuff out the dissidents of the Rebel Alliance.

"So… what now?" he finally asked. He stretched his senses out in the Force, feeling for nearby signatures that reverberated to him. Elise, ever the familiar presence, was now moving back toward him, several more people within her group. "The students are coming back, by the way."

"Oh? How do you know?"

He shrugged. "Call it a technique of mine."

"You're just _offering _us this information?" G blurted out, his eyes narrowed with clear distrust. "What could you possibly stand to gain?"

"Like I said, I don't much care for what you do as long as your interests don't interfere with mine." Truly, Starkiller's teachings had taught him a great many truths, principle among them that the binary division between good and evil, Jedi and Sith, were so far removed from reality it was almost delusional.

"I must concur with S and V. You are an interesting one." C mused. Rean pointedly ignored the '_or insane, more likely,' _that G quipped under his breath. "We intend to reveal ourselves to the RMP. For now, though, I must confess to wishing to see your skills with my own eyes."

With that, he withdrew his weapon from behind his back, holding its sheer length perpendicularly across his body, and Rean restrained himself from whistling. Growing up in Ymir, he'd never even so much as heard of a double-bladed weapon, never mind one as large as what he now held. PROXY's use of the saberstaff two years ago prior to his introduction to the truth of Juyo was his first experience with the weapon.

"A saberstaff," he commented, readying his vibroblades within his hands, settling into a guard of his own. "Impressive."

"You've seen this weapon before?" C sounded almost surprised. "Not many people know of the double saber."

Was that what they called it? He made a non-committal sound. "My instructor was _very_ thorough in my education."

"Hmm." C crouched low, body angled in a position for rapid advance, retreat or parrying. He clearly was no novice to the weapon. "I must say, I haven't heard of a style that holds two swords in a reverse-grip before."

"It is a variant of the form known as Shien." He saw no reason to hold back that particular truth, since he doubted there was any still alive who knew of the forms of lightsaber combat. _Shien_ even seemed vaguely eastern-sounding, lending credence to his falsified background. He adjusted his posture slightly, matching his guard with C's angles of attack. "Shall we?"

"Begin."

With that, C dashed toward him, as a Vornskr might to its prey, his saberstaff already in the beginnings of a sweeping strike. Beneath his helmet, Rean grinned, already beginning to leap over the arc of his opponent's slash, readying a riposte of his own. The battle was on.

It was almost like fighting with PROXY, only now he had an actual living, breathing human opponent. The Force sung as they fought, the ringing of steel echoing through the chamber as metal clashed. He could just barely feel C's passion and curiosity leak through his veiled emotions. Whoever C was beneath the mask, there was almost a sense of paradoxical honesty at the core of it.

As the fight continued, Rean absentmindedly got the feeling that he would soon be like C, if he was going to keep up his guise as Galen Marek, mysterious stranger from the East.

For minutes, all the insecurities and worries that had built up since first seeing the vision just scarcely hours earlier faded away. Training with PROXY had taught him to find solace in a good fight, his mind entirely calm and empty as vibroblades moved through the air. His body moved as the Force willed it, and in this first true battle since his return to Erebonia, he felt entirely _alive_, without a care in the world.

C, too, was curiously holding back, deliberately avoiding strikes that may have otherwise been fatal if Rean failed to read his movements. They both seemed to be feeling out their respective opponents, getting a sense of who they were through the language of battle rather than words. In C's hands, the double saber sung a tale of passion and determination, skill earned through years of training, a single focused goal weighing on its wielder's mind.

Alas, the conversation had to be cut short. As he'd done with PROXY many times over in the past, he forced C to jump from twin sweeping blows coming from either side, then kicked him in the midsection while his opponent was in midair. PROXY had drilled that particular technique of Ataru into his mind over the years.

C grunted, stumbling over backward, likely not expecting Rean to have engaged in that method of combat. They stood several steps apart, weapons held loosely in their hands, each unable to see the face of the other, hidden under their helmets as they were. For several moments, they remained like that, their breathing mildly quickened but clearly not having fully exhausted themselves.

Mentally, Rean counted down the seconds until the students and whoever they brought arrived. C was likely doing the same.

_Three, two, one –_

"FREEZE!" They burst into the cavern, a group of ten or so individuals, guns pointed in a way that covered all directions. "This is the Railway Military Police! Nobody move!"

"A double blade…" he could hear one of the students that had accompanied Elise exhale under her breath. "A relic from the Dark Ages…"

Huh. Rean had no idea that saberstaves were _that_ rare.

"It seems our duel has to be cut short," C commented idly, soaring only a passing glance as they spread out into the chamber, as though uncaring of the new arrivals.

"Calling it a _duel _is a little far-fetched. You were holding back."

"So were you."

With that, C shook his head, finally turning to address the one in the lead. Rean turned around to do the same. Instantly, he saw how the blue-haired woman shifted her gun toward him, her eyes narrowed in calculation.

"W- wait, Captain Claire, that's the one who saved us!" the student who held a shotgun shouted. The aforementioned captain's gun lingered on him for a moment longer, before switching back toward C. He stared at the student who had intervened on his behalf, watching as he flinched slightly.

Come to think of it, with that green hair of his and the spectacles on his face, he looked almost like the man from up in the crystal garden earlier. A relative?

He looked over at the rest of the students. The orange-haired one and the blue-haired girl had come along, although Elise and the final member he had seen weren't present. He assumed that they were having their injuries treated up on the surface.

"You are under arrest on charges of inciting acts of terrorism. Come quietly, or we will –"

"I'm afraid we can't do that, Icy Maiden." C chuckled, and her grip on her pistol tightened. Rean could see V do the same up on the ridge he stood on, his massive rifle aimed at the military police members in the cavern. S was subtly fingering the sword by her side, and Rean had no doubt that she was just as deadly as her comrades could be, given the chance.

"We are the Imperial Liberation Front. What you have seen today is only the beginning," C declared authoritatively, his voice booming. "We are the fire that will purge this land of the tyrant's evil. We are the hammer that will mete out justice once and for all. We are the voice of the downtrodden and broken."

He lowered his saberstaff, only to raise a device in his other hand. The Force shouted a warning, and it wasn't the only one.

"DROP THAT –"

"Get down!" Rean shouted, leaping backward just as C pressed the button on the device.

Immediately, a shockwave of force accompanied an explosion overhead, the bomb that had been planted by the Imperial Liberation Front having been ignited from the device. It seemed that what C had been waiting for was the chance to reveal their organisation and deliver a warning.

"It has been a pleasure fighting you, Galen Marek. I do hope to see you around."

His final parting message sent, he deftly leapt up to join his comrades, evading the shots that had been sent his way by the captain and her men. S and V offered their own cheeky salutes, before finally disappearing from his line of sight behind the ridge.

The ceiling was crumbling now, chunks of stone falling down into the cavern. He could see the warring indecision in the captain's eyes, caught between wanting to pursue C and his group and retreating from the collapsing cavern. The students were following her lead, unmoving in their positions.

"Retreat!" she finally ordered.

That finally gave them the impetus to move, but what stability had remained in the stone formation had given way, rapidly crumbling around them from above. Even the _floor _was beginning to crack and splinter now. Evidently, C's group had been well-prepared for this encounter.

They ran without any further exchange of words, Rean staying near the middle of the pack, keeping an eye out for the stragglers in their party. The students hadn't had the chance to heal their injuries, the orange-haired boy grimacing as he limped as fast as he could.

_Not fast enough._

"ELLIOT!"

The boy tripped, watching with growing horror as the cracks along the floor extended toward him and rocks began falling down directly at him –

Rean extended a hand, telekinetically pulling him into the air, out of the path of descending rocks and collapsing floor. He yelped, clearly not expecting that unceremonious and unorthodox method of rescue. Rean gave a once-over across the rest of the boy's classmates, quickly accessing them based only on what he could see –

"Get him!" he reared his arm back, and tossed Elliot over to his classmate, the blue-haired girl who carried a massive greatsword. She shouldn't have difficulty supporting his weight.

To her credit, the only reaction she gave was a slight widening of her eyes as Elliot flew toward her. Shotgun-boy hasn't been quite as composed when he'd done the same thing with the princess earlier.

"Go!"

He barely glanced over to make sure she'd caught the boy, before turning to his next plan of action, slowing in his running just slightly. He took stock of the falling rocks, noted their positions, keeping track of all of them _individually _as he'd done in his meditation exercises many times over.

Then, he acted.

He raised a hand, clenching it tight, and the rocks stilled, their descent halted, hovering unsteadily in the air. Now, at least, the others only had to pay attention to the floor.

The issue that came with that, however, was –

"Stop gawking and get moving!"

That seemed to make the more easily distracted members of their group remember what situation they were in. They stopped peering around at the dome of Force that centered around them, keeping their eyes ahead of them as they resumed running.

Several tens of seconds of frantic running later, they finally entered a clearing with stable ground disconnected from the rest of the massive underground complex.

"Laura! Machias! Elliot!"

There, waiting for them, he saw Elise and the white-haired girl. Upon catching sight of their classmates, the worried looks on their faces loosened, and they rushed up to rejoin them as they slumped over, exhausted from their evacuation of the collapsing cavern.

He took the chance to have a proper look at Elise for the first time in eight years. The early fiasco with the bone dragon didn't count, since he barely had instants to assess the situation before diving in headfirst.

In many ways, she looked the way he had pictured her in her memories – kind and always looking out for others, as she did now despite her own injuries that had only been partially tended to.

In many others, however, she was almost irreconcilable from the demure girl she had been. There was a roughness to her now, her soft features having given way to calloused hands and musculature that spoke of harsh and grueling training. By her side she carried an eastern-looking sword – a tachi, if his memory served him right.

That would mean that she'd likely trained in the Eight Leaves One Blade school. If so, then that presence he had felt by her side over the years could only have been the legendary swordsman, Yun Ka-fai.

His gaze lingered just a moment too long. They had caught him staring at them, and were now beginning to approach. A pink-haired lady stood over by the side, watching over them, fingers subtly hovering over the gun by her waist as they stepped closer to him.

A teacher, then?

Come to think of it, why _were_ Thors students here?

"Thank you." Elise's voice had changed from how he remembered it to be, but the gratitude was clear all the same. "For earlier, I mean. You saved our lives."

She was still limping, but at least her femur wasn't broken anymore. Elliot must have done a good job.

Now that the battle was over, he again didn't quite know what to say. Verbal sparring with the Imperial Liberation Front was one thing, having been accustomed to that while training under PROXY's thumb. It was something else entirely to reunite with a long-lost sister, while masquerading under the name of his master that had been deceased for thousands of years, all while she had thought him to be dead.

Did family relationships even get any more complex than that?

"Think nothing of it," he dismissed, his voice strained.

"You fought an ancient bone dragon single-handedly and _deflected _bullets in mid-air," the white-haired girl said pointedly. "That doesn't sound like nothing to me."

"Indeed," the early-named Laura chipped in, not-so-subtly eyeing the vibroblades in his hands. "We would most likely have died, if not for your timely intervention."

"You saved me back there, too," Elliot offered his own input, wincing as he stepped forward. "Not to mention Princess Alfin."

"What _was_ that, anyway?" Machias took the opportunity to ask. "I've never seen any art or craft like that before."

Rean took a moment to consider how he should respond. Knowledge of the Force wasn't something he wanted known just yet, until he could get his bearings. At least he could play it off as some obscure craft from the east.

"It's complicated," he finally said. "Think of it as similar to a craft."

He still seemed to have an almost-academic curiosity in his eyes, but he didn't continue his line of questioning. He either respected Rean enough to know that he didn't quite want to reveal its truth just yet, or Starkiller's bounty hunter apparel was more intimidating than Rean had given him credit for.

"Speaking of the princess," Rean expertly changed the subject. "Where did you guys take her to?"

"She's up on the surface," Machias explained. "My father is keeping watch over her."

It seemed his earlier suspicion was correct. He nodded, and they fell into an uncomfortable silence. The pink-haired lady took the chance to join in.

"Glad to see you're alright, kids." She turned to look at Rean, and he recognised how she assessed him the way he would any of PROXY's combat modules. "Heard that you saved their butts. Thanks for that."

"Instructor Sara –"

"Now, now, Elliot," she mock-scolded. "Grown-ups are talking."

Privately, Rean wondered if PROXY had somehow managed to sneak his way into Thors Military Academy and masquerade as one of the teachers there.

And wait a second –

_Grown up? _He was the same age as them, for Aidios' sake!

"Like I told them," he betrayed none of his inner indignation. "Think nothing of it."

"Hmm," she hummed. "How _did _you know to come here, anyway? Not that I'm complaining, of course," she amended when Machias had been about to object to her suspicions. "I get to see my cute kids again because of you."

She ruffled the short girl's hair – Fie? – but her student didn't otherwise react, her face entirely unreadable.

"I'm curious about that myself, actually," the captain took the chance to join in. "Captain Claire Rieveldt of the Railway Military Police," she introduced herself. "The students have given a brief recount of their side of the story, but I'd like to hear from you as well."

"Galen Marek," he offered his own greeting. "There's not much to it, really. I came to Heimdallr for the celebrations, found it overrun with monsters, then came to the park where the soldiers told me the princess had been kidnapped and that the students were in pursuit."

"The summer festival, huh?" she mused. "I don't suppose you're willing to disclose why you're dressed like a jaeger?"

She gestured pointedly at the helmet that obscured his face and voice. He coughed politely, furiously thinking up a reason.

"I have identity issues."

…he didn't claim to have _good _ideas.

"…right." Claire looked at him blankly, then shook her head. "Well, I suppose you've earned the right to some privacy, whatever your reasons may be. What happened next?"

"I fought the bone dragon, then destroyed the flute that G held before S, V and C arrived. C and I fought, and you all arrived soon after."

He left out the part where he exchanged words with the members of the terrorist organisation. He doubted the officer would take kindly to his reasons, no matter how much they seemed to believe in the justice of their cause.

"I see." She frowned for a moment. "Thank you for your report. Would you mind if we contacted you for any further questions during our investigation?"

There they hit a snag. "I don't mind," he said slowly. "But I don't have an orbal communications device."

By their side, Instructor Sara coughed violently, a stark contrast to her patient eavesdropping thus far. "What do you _mean _you don't have an orbment?!" She waved her hands, gesturing wildly. "It's 1204! _Everyone _has an ARCUS or an Enigma these days!"

Silently, the rest of the group stared at her, but she hardly flushed in embarrassment. To her, it seemed almost unthinkable that anyone could go without orbal communications.

Things sure had changed over the past eight years.

"Not me, evidently –"

"That's it!" She interrupted abruptly. "Kids! You're buying Galen over here a combat orbment! Think of it as payment for saving your butts!"

"There's really no need –"

"No buts!" she cut in once more. "These kids need to learn!"

"Is she _always _like this?" he asked Machias, the student who stood closest to him, not caring whether or not she could hear him.

He sighed deeply. "Unfortunately, yes."

…he could really empathise with the students. He knew what it was like to deal with an overbearing instructor.

"We should get going," Laura spoke up. "I'm sure Governor Regnitz and Princess Alfin must be waiting for us."

With that, they continued making their way through the underground complex.

"What are you planning to do now, Galen?" Elliot asked curiously. "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"No idea." He shrugged. Truthfully, he didn't. All of this had stemmed from a spur-of-the-moment decision from viewing a Force vision that spiraled into this mess. "I need to get my speederbike, and see where I go from there."

"Speederbike?" Elise finally spoke up. "You mean like an orbal bike?"

He had no idea what that was. Had someone developed that during his absence?

"Possibly?" he half-asked. "I left it somewhere in the streets before approaching here on foot."

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Elliot asked, concerned. "I'm not sure if the inns will be running after all of what happened."

"I'll figure something out," he said. "Don't have any mira on me, anyway."

And that was something he _really _needed to sort out. He knew that there were groups that ventured out to slay monsters and retrieve the septium that was the source of their powers, exchanging the crystals for currency. Perhaps he could do the same? He had fought off his fair share of monsters today already, anyway, and –

Belatedly, he realised how the rest of the group that consisted of Instructor Sara, Elise and her peers had paused mid-step, while he had continued on walking. He turned around to face them.

"Not having an orbment, I can begrudgingly accept," Sara said slowly; incredulously. "But _mira_? Just under which rock in Erebonia did you crawl out of?"

"I'm not from Erebonia." Hey, it wasn't completely a lie. The moon was a long distance away. "I'm from the east."

"Calvard?"

"Further east." _Continue in that direction and escape the planet's magnetic field, and eventually you'll hit the moon. _It wasn't even a lie!

"There's something east of Calvard?" Sara asked, then shrugged. "Ehh, whatever."

"Going back on topic," Machias steered the conversation. "Where do you intend to stay? Have you just been wandering out in the open all this time?"

"I could just find somewhere out in the outskirts to camp out in after I get my bike." He really needed to properly think things through, now that he'd returned to Erebonia. "After that, we'll see."

"Nuh-uh," Sara immediately shut down that idea. "You, sir, are going to experience what _civilisation_ is like. You're staying with the kids at the old Bracer headquarters today, and following us back to the academy tomorrow. There's no problem, is there, kids?"

A chorus of agreement rang out, ranging from the cautious (Machias) to the indifferent (Fie).

"You can join us for dinner," Elise offered, looking at the rest for confirmation. "I'm sure Elliot's sister will be happy to have you."

This was dangerous territory. He dearly wanted to stay by Elise's side, of course, but he wasn't sure if everything that had been said was a good idea.

"I really don't want to impose –"

"There's no problem, Galen," Elliot hurriedly assured. "We really do need to properly thank you for everything you've done."

"As I've told you, there's really no need –"

Sara didn't even need to speak for him to pause. Her expression said it all. Finally, he acquiesced, after seeing that they would not take no for an answer. "Fine," he said. "I'll need to grab my speeder before that, though."

Right on cue, he could see sunlight streaming in from a hole in the ceiling just up ahead, the same place he'd entered from within the crystal garden earlier. A breeze was streaming in, now, and he could hear murmuring in the distance.

The moment they stepped up through where the blast had torn the ground apart, all muttering stopped, and the assembled nobles simply stared at them.

That was, of course, until Sara coughed politely.

"Machias!" His father shouted, running up to join his son. Behind him, the princess trailed along, looking resolute despite seeming shaken by the ordeal she had gone through to his Force senses.

She was putting on a brave face for the populace, that much was certain. In some ways, he pitied her.

To his surprise, she walked past the Thors students, looking directly toward him.

"I understand that I have you to thank for my rescue." She bowed graciously, every bit the noble that was the treasure of Erebonia, if things hadn't changed since he left Ymir. Even there, far away from the capital, the prince and princess of the royal family were household names. "You have my gratitude."

…yeah. At this point, he was getting a little tired of all the thanks he was getting, if he was being honest with himself.

"Don't worry about it," he said, not breaking his stride. "If you'll forgive me, princess – I really need to retrieve my bike before it gets stolen."

With that, he strode past, ignoring the gasps behind him as the students stammered an apology on his behalf.

_Nailed it._


	5. Chapter 5

Just slightly more than an hour later, he was now pausing in front of the door of one of the buildings in the Alto Street, having already brought his hoverbike into the Bracer guild branch headquarters. The students were already entering the building, and in the house he could sense the presence of its lone denizen.

Elliot paused at the threshold, turning around and beckoning him to follow. "Come on, Galen," he urged. "I'll introduce you to Fiona; she'll want to meet you."

Over the last hour, he'd exchanged few words with the students. Aside from Elise, who he had to feign ignorance of having known before, he now knew their names – Laura Arseid (of _the _famed Arseid school), Elliot Craig, Fie Claussell and Machias Regnitz.

They had been astounded by the sight of the hoverbike, created and designed for use in the field by scout-troopers in all terrains. There were no wheels to speak of, and he had to explain that when activated it moved by hovering above the surface below, neglecting to mention the physics behind its repulsorlift engines. What was truly impressive, though, was its weight, able to be dragged along with one hand even when it wasn't functional, having been made of lightweight yet durable materials that as far as he was aware weren't readily available in Zemuria. This wasn't something he was willing to let go off easily.

Silently, he followed Elliot into his home. Being introduced to one of his sister's friend's sibling wasn't part of the plan when he left the _Rogue Shadow_, but most of his master's plans had always been impromptu decisions.

"Elliot!" an orange-haired lady rushed past, sweeping the boy into his arms. The resemblance was uncanny. "I've been so _worried _about you! First the mess in the square, and then the monsters in the park, I –"

"F- Fiona!" Elliot struggles within her tight grip. "I'm alright, see?"

He gestured at himself, wincing slightly as he moved. That did not go unnoticed by his sister, who narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "R- really! I'm fine!"

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, and he squirmed uncomfortably. "I've got my eye on you," she warned dangerously, and Elliot hurriedly nodded. Then, satisfied, she finally took notice of Rean, her tone shifting in an instant. "And who might you be?"

"Galen Marek," Rean said. It was a little unsettling how easy it was to sink into the falsehood of a life he'd created for himself.

"Galen saves our lives down there," Elliot explained, much to his sister's horror. "More than once, in fact. Galen, this is my sister, Fiona."

"You _really _need to stop saying that," Rean sighed tiredly. In more ways than one, he was the complete opposite of PROXY. "I'm quite sure that's at least the fifth time it's been mentioned."

"You saved Elliot's life?" Fiona's voice came oddly strained. Then, she turned toward Elliot, who visibly gulped. "You almost _died?_"

"H- hey, I'm alright now, right?" Elliot looked toward his classmates for support, but they merely looked on with mild entertainment. "Some help here, guys?"

Come to think of it…

"If you don't mind me asking…" Rean broke into the conversation. Both siblings turned to face him, Fiona letting go of Elliot from the headlock she'd captured him in. "Why haven't you fully healed yourself with your arts yet?"

The same could be said for the other members of their group. Elise and Machias still had quite several ugly bruises, while Fie and Laura had some nasty-looking cuts and scrapes.

"I haven't managed to get my orbments recharged yet," Elliot admitted. "It took up most of my energy just to get the more serious injuries out of the way."

Hmm. Rean really needed to read up on just how orbments and quartz worked. When he left Ymir, he hadn't been quite at that stage just yet. Something to consider for the near future.

"Would you mind if I try something?" he asked. Elliot shook his head, looking on with clear curiosity. Carefully, Rean took his hand, concentrating on the task at hand.

…at _hand,_ get it?

Ah, PROXY would have laughed at the horrible pun. Rean really needed to learn humour from someone who wasn't a droid.

Shaking his head of those distracting thoughts, he focused on what he was attempting. Healing through the Force wasn't entirely alien to him, since he'd long been able to perform that feat while on the _Rogue Shadow._ It was the only reason why they hadn't run out of bactaspray.

No, what was different was that he was now attempting it on someone other than himself. Force Heal was a Force power that sped up the body's natural healing process, returning it to its natural state. The most gifted in the art had been known to mend flesh and sinew, and even bring back those on the brink of death to the realm of the living.

He focused on the essence of what it meant to be Elliot Craig, probing at him through the Force. Then, using his own connection to the Force as a conduit, he diverted the currents of the omnipresent energy into Elliot's body; slowly and gingerly at first, then gradually turning into a mild stream.

The gasps of surprise as a blue-green glow surrounded him told Rean that it had worked, at least to some extent. It wasn't quite as effective as when used to heal himself, but some of the bruises on Elliot's body had disappeared.

"What was that?" he asked when it was finally concluded. Rean didn't want to risk flooding him with too much energy of the Force, lest the balance was destroyed.

"A craft," he lied. Maybe it wasn't completely a lie, since he could sense the vibrations of energy in the Force each time a craft or art had been used around him thus far. He looked over at the other students. "I can try healing your injuries too, if you want."

One by one, he attempted healing them with the Force, each time refining the process just slightly. It wasn't perfect, but at least it worked. Fiona had excused herself at some point to prepare for dinner, leaving himself at the table with his sister and her classmates.

Now, then. What did people his age even talk about? Quartz? Orbal computer games? Social lives?

"So, Galen," Laura ultimately began the conversation. "Your skills were most impressive, earlier. What school of swordsmanship was that?"

He snorted within his helmet, while the rest looked on with fond exasperation. He got the distinct impression that she was a bit of a fanatic in the way of the sword, fitting her position as the eventual successor to the Arseid school.

"Truth be told, there isn't really a school, per se," he began saying. "The style has seven forms, each with its own variants. I have a preference for the dual-saber variant of Shien."

"Seven forms, huh?" Elise considered. "The Eight Leaves has eight, but only master Ka-fai can be said to be a master in all of them."

He nodded. "I've dabbled in all seven under my instructor's guidance, but can only claim to have anything close to expertise in three or four of them. Ataru, the Aggression Form; Djem So and Shien, that together make the Perseverance Form; Soresu, the Resilience Form; and Niman, the Moderation Form."

"Interesting," Laura mused. "I assume by those names that each form has their own philosophies?"

"Indeed."

"You mentioned an instructor," Fie said sharply. "You jaeger trained?"

He noted how Laura frowned at that innocuous question. Was there some friction there?

"In a manner of speaking, I guess." He tilted his head toward the girl, as Laura stiffened. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "Just curious."

Hmm. There was a lot unsaid going on here, but based on what he was sensing from the rest it seemed best to steer the conversation along.

"Anyway," he said. "How is Thors like? I always wanted to go there as a child."

He was genuinely curious about education in Thors. Prior to his abduction by PROXY, it had been his plan to eventually enroll in Thors and gradually break away from the Schwarzer name, so that he would no longer drag his adopted family's prestige down the mud as he'd done when they took him in.

The students took a moment to consider his question, exchanging glances between each other.

"It's interesting, I guess," Elliot offered. "We're a bit of an experimental class in Class VII. We've all got different backgrounds, and the instructors send us on monthly field trips like this one."

"There're nine of us," Elise added. "Besides us five, we also have Emma, Alisa, Gaius and Jusis."

"Do you enjoy it?" Hearing firsthand from Elise how her life had gone while he had been away was refreshing.

"Classes are interesting, but the workload can pile up," Machias commented.

"Really?" Fie quipped, a smirk on her face. "Haven't noticed."

"You don't even do _any _work! You sleep in half the classes!" Machias retorted, affronted.

"Meanwhile, you put in too _much _work," Elise grumbled. "You, Emma and Jusis spend all your time in the library."

"You and Laura are in the training field just as often. And I resent being compared to that stuck-up, holier-than-thou noble!"

"Jusis isn't _that_ bad, Machias," Elise groaned. "I thought you two patched things up during the field trip?"

"Patch things up – well, I never!"

The bickering continued like that, Fie goading the rest along for her personal entertainment, while Elliot played peacekeeper. Beneath his helmet, he smiled softly. Elise truly was in good hands.

Eventually, Fiona brought out plates of steaming, mouthwatering food, and it was only then that it hit Rean that he would be eating _actual _food for the first time in eight years. They began serving out the food, loading each of their plates.

He pressed a few buttons by the side of his helmet, and part of the visor that obscured the lower half of his face lifted up, exposing his mouth. Thank the Force that Starkiller had decided to install that option into his disguise. Even bounty hunters needed to eat during the course of their work sometimes. He was about to eat a spoonful of the delicious food, when he noted how the rest were staring at him.

"…I was kind of wondering whether you would remove the helmet, to be honest," Elliot said, disappointed.

"Meh. Spoilsport," Fie chimed in, but began eating anyway.

He shook his head at the silliness of it all. He placed the spoon in his mouth, and –

_Oh, Aidios._

There was _texture _that went beyond the three default states of mushy, chunky and rock-solid! There were _nuances _to its taste! Scents and aromas intermingled, elevating the dish to greater heights.

It was, frankly speaking, _divine._

_Oh, Goddess. I've died and joined in the Force._

"Galen?" Fiona asked slowly, worriedly. "Is everything alright?"

Very slowly, deliberately, he lowered the spoon from his mouth, and stared at her right in the eyes.

"This is the best thing I've eaten for as long as I can remember."

Her face flushed with embarrassment, but Rean paid it no heed. The compliment was well-deserved.

With that, he began taking mouthful after mouthful of the meal, savouring each one as though all this was just a dream. After years of PROXY's _'synthesised food'_, if he'd known just what awaited him upon his return he would have committed himself harder to his training than he'd already done.

"Someone's certainly enjoying himself," Fie sounded amused.

"…no offense, Galen, but you _really _don't look the part with how much and how fast you're eating," Machias said, looking fascinated at him.

He supposed it would look kind of ridiculous, if a supposedly intimidating bounty hunter started wolfing down his food in the shady bars of Nar Shaddar. Still, though…

"I've survived on tasteless gruel for eight years. Let me have this moment to myself."

He suspected that they assumed that statement to be figurative, when calling it _gruel_ was more than what he'd been fed on deserved.

"Eight years, huh?" Elise mused for a moment. Then, her eyes grew downcast, lost in thought.

He cursed silently. _Abort, abort._

"Oh yeah… isn't that when –"

Machias grabbed Elliot's hand, shaking his head slowly. By her side, Laura offered Elise her own support, while Fie looked on somberly.

"It's okay, Elliot." Elise inhaled deeply, then looked at Rean, explaining for the eastern stranger who didn't seem quite versed in Erebonian happenings. "My brother died eight years ago."

"I'm sorry," he said automatically. He actually meant it, not that she would ever know _why._ He could feel a familiar grief rising within her, now.

"It's not as if it's your fault," Elise sighed, leaning back into her chair wistfully. _It really is._ "We were out playing in the snow, when a monster attacked… he saved me, but he was already injured. I fell unconscious, and next thing I knew, I was back in Ymir. Rean wasn't anywhere to be found."

"It was big news in Erebonia back then," Elliot added. "Everyone thought someone had kidnapped the Baron's son for leverage. Dad didn't let me out of his sight for months."

"Did they ever find him?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

"No," Elise said glumly. "I thought he would return one day, but as the years went on, I just –"

She choked on her words. Laura gripped her shoulder tighter, and Fie seemed to be lost within her own memories.

"It's why I asked to train with master Ka-fai," she continued after a moment. "Rean would have wanted that, to protect those he couldn't because of _me."_

… Aidios above, this was _extremely_ awkward for him, hearing his sister talk about him while in his disguise. Her reasons for training herself were so uncannily similar to his own, even though what he would have most wanted her to do was to live herown life.

He wanted to tell her that, but there was no way he could, was there?

"I'm sure he's proud of you." He really was. She had accomplished so much over the years, even entering Thors two years early.

"I hope so."

They lapsed into silence, picking at what remained of their food. Finally, when there was nothing left, they bid goodbye to Fiona and returned to the Bracer branch headquarters to retire for the night.

For the first day of his return to Erebonia, things could certainly have gone worse.

-o-o-o-

The next day, he awoke just before dawn. Damn PROXY and his years of waking up him by every means possible _precisely_ six hours and thirty minutes after detecting that he fell asleep, every single day.

He had a brief moment of panic when he awoke in an unfamiliar room, before memories of the day before came rushing back to him. So much had happened. He had beaten the last of PROXY's modules, experienced a kriffing Force vision, at least temporarily utilised the true meaning of Juyo, and then rescued his sister from being caught up in the machinations of a terrorist organisation.

Oh, and he'd also made up a fictional identity on the spot. He was now Galen Marek, swordsman from the east, with identity issues that required him to constantly wear a Mandalorian bounty hunter's helmet. That was always fun.

No sense breaking the routine he'd set up. The first hour after awakening was always spent on meditation, only now the beacon that had focused his thoughts was scarcely meters away. He got off the bed, making it back up with the Force – PROXY always admonished him when he was tardy – before sitting cross-legged on the floor, all _four _of his lightsabers neatly arranged in front of him.

_Time to get to work_.

He calmed his mind, setting the lightsabers into motion. Hilt, focusing crystal, and power core, amid a dozen other paraphernalia that made up the ancient weapons of the Jedi and Sith orders. Each were a part of the greater whole. They rotated in the air, disassembling and reassembling, as he sifted through his thoughts.

Slowly, emotions faded, and all that was left was _focus._

First and foremost – he needed a plan. He also needed to find out what the cryptic Force vision had meant. The bone dragon was obvious, of course, but why had he seen droids the size of AT-STs? What were those giant cannons he had seen? Why had he witnessed a city being obliterated?

How did the events of yesterday factor into any of these?

There was too much he did not know. His knowledge of Erebonia was sparse enough as it was as a child; the present state of the empire may as well have been entirely foreign to him.

It was clear, then. What he needed was information. But from where? A library was ideal, but he would need to figure out both where to find one, and how to sustain himself over the coming days.

Perhaps he could kill two hawk-bats with one stone by requesting to tag along with the students to Trista, and make use of the library in Thors. There should be monsters nearby he could kill to make ends meet, all while having a ready source of information and being able to ensure Elise's safety.

And besides, a deeper, more childish side of him always thought that enrolling into Thors would be a dream come true. He wouldn't be a student, of course, but being within Trista was close enough an association he could convince himself of being a student by proxy.

…a _student _by _PROXY,_ get it? Because he was PROXY's student –

Goddess, he was lonely. He would have shared (admittedly terrible) jokes like that with his former instructor, but now he was well and truly alone.

He gave up on his meditation, returning his lightsabers to their original state. If his thoughts had sunken to such depths that such puns were conjured, he doubted meditation would do him much good right now. Replacing both his original lightsabers and Starkiller's own on his belt, he stood up and began to head toward the door –

Ah, wait. Helmet first.

Disguise secured, he left the room, preparing to ready himself for the day. Thank the Force that the Bracer guild had some spare clothes; without the amenities available on the _Rogue Shadow _washing and drying his clothes would take some time.

He exited the room, thinking that he would be the first one awake. Teenagers his age were supposed to be lazy and all, right?

To his surprise, Fie had already been waiting at the common area of the guild branch. Upon seeing him, she raised an eyebrow, pointedly looking at his helmet.

"You're _really_ paranoid, huh?"

He ignored that comment, moving to join her by the table. Normally, he would begin working his way through the forms while waiting for PROXY's inevitable surprise attack, but now he didn't see a way to continue that aspect of his routine at present. There really wasn't much space to practice, and he'd been informed during their dinner the previous night that they had been requested to arrive at Valflame Palace later that day. Surprisingly, that request had specifically included him.

He didn't quite know what to expect, to be honest. He'd heard grand tales of the palace and the Imperial Family, but after listening to PROXY's accounts of the Galactic Republic and the sheer _vastness_ of the galaxy at large, everything in Erebonia (and even Zemuria) seemed so minuscule in comparison.

"You're up early," he commented as he sat opposite her.

"Force of habit."

Now was his turn to quirk an eyebrow. "Didn't Machias say you fall asleep in your classes?"

She shrugged, a small smirk tugging on her lips. "Also force of habit."

He sighed. "Do you really have to be like that?"

That smirk turned into a grin. "Force of habit."

He groaned, abandoning his attempts at social niceties. Was it just his fate that everyone he met channeled some of PROXY's most personally annoying aspects?

He took to mentally going over the lightsaber sequences of each form, reviewing and rehearsing every bit of experience he'd built up over the years. It was a habit that had been ingrained into him. PROXY had made it abundantly clear that mastery of the lightsaber was as taxing on the mind as it was on the body.

_Slash, block, riposte, Force-enhanced pushing slash into a pursuing burst of lightning –_

"You're both awake already?" Elise's voice came at him, punctuated by a yawn. When had she even gotten down? "Must be a jaeger thing."

"My instructor took steps to make sure I knew the importance of waking up early," he said. Protecting himself from dismemberment arising from lightsaber strikes while fast asleep, prevented only by a warning in the Force, tended to make sure he learnt fast.

"Mine too." Fie looked at him curiously.

Huh. Was that an _actual_ jaeger thing, then?

It took only awhile longer before the rest arrived. Laura had somehow found the time to engage in practice in her room prior to heading down (how she managed that with her massive sword and limited space was a mystery), while Elliot and Machias remained half-asleep from fatigue that had built up over the course of their field trip.

From there, they began heading out, taking the train to Dreichels Plaza from which they could proceed to Valflame Palace. The group was more subdued compared to the day before, and he detected waves of uncertainty and apprehension from them at the thought of meeting with _the _royalty of Erebonia.

He couldn't blame them. He'd likely have the same amount of jitters if he hadn't already spent years learning to control his mind and soul. _There is no emotion, there is peace._

By the time they had been ushered into the grand audience chamber of the palace, the princess he'd briefly seen the day before had already been waiting for their presence. By her side was another blonde-haired man with every making of a noble, wearing a regal red coat adorned with the finery of royalty. They were chatting animatedly with a group of teenagers, and he assumed by the fact that Sara accompanied them that these were the other half of Class VII.

"Prince Olivert! Princess Alfin!" Elise was the first to greet them, followed quickly by the others. The chatter that had gone on momentarily stalled, as they took a second to register the newcomers of Class VII and the disguised Rean.

So this was the famous prince, then. Even Rean knew of him. Born to a commoner mother, he'd abdicated himself from the line of succession when Cedric Reise Arnor, one half of the greatest twin treasures of Erebonia, had been born.

"Elise! Elliot! Laura! Fie! Machias!" A chorus of greetings rang out, as their classmates hurriedly beckoned them over. Silently, Rean trailed behind them, taking the opportunity to look over Elise's classmates for the past few months.

They hadn't been kidding when they said that Class VII took in people of all backgrounds. He saw one that he _thought _might be of a noble background, since his attire was similar to those of the prince and princess. One didn't seem to be of the Erebonian empire, with a darker complexion and tribal-looking tattoos on his arms. Another was a blonde-haired girl with hair neatly tied into twintails that hurriedly ran up to embrace Elise – clearly they became close friends – and the last was a bespectacled girl, studying him with no small amount of curiosity.

Was it just his imagination, or was that recognition and, for some reason, _fear_ that he felt through the Force on her part?

It didn't make any sense, though. She hadn't seen him before. He was probably reading too much into things.

"Ah, if it isn't the delightful members of Class VII!" Olivert gave an elegant bow, moving a hand in a sweeping flourish, an easygoing smile on his face. He briefly glanced over them, before pausing as he laid eyes on Rean, his smile widening. "And this must be the mysterious stranger that saved my darling little sister from the clutches of the Imperial Liberation Front! Who knows what grizzly fate could have awaited her had you not showed up in time?"

Then, he twirled smoothly on the spot, shooting a distinct wink toward Sara, who promptly held both her hands out and waved them in a panic. Without pausing, his grin only widened further, and he continued saying, "Why, the lovely Sara Valestein over here was just telling us all about you!"

…oh, Aidios above, what did he ever do to affront the Goddess that he had to deal with _another_ borderline insane, over-the-top nutjob on his return to Erebonia?

Abruptly, he was aware of a deathly silence taking hold over the interior of the palace.

Startled, he looked to his left and right, and noticed the students staring at him with wide eyes. Sara's brief panic had morphed into a bizarre mix of admiration, indignation and entertainment, while the prince and princess…

"I just said that out loud, didn't I." He stated more than asked. Damn PROXY and his constant need for running commentary that had unduly influenced Rean's own social skills.

"That you did, my friend, that you did," Olivert said mirthfully, inspecting Rean with renewed interest. Beside him, the princess had a mischievous smile of her own, watching their interaction with obvious amusement.

"Can we pretend that never happened?"

"Ah, but where would be the fun in that?" Olivert responded easily. "Is it not through the depths of chaos that the brilliance of beauty shines through? Can anyone ever truly be sane, without a spark of madness?"

He took back everything he said. Everyone in Erebonia was _fully _insane.

Thankfully, he didn't voice that out loud this time.

He coughed politely, hoping to at least bring the conversation back to the realm of normalcy. "I do hope you've not taken her words at face value."

"Between what I have heard from my sister and Miss Valestein, I must confess that you are a difficult man to get a sense of indeed. Ah, but I can feel the song coming along now!"

Before Rean could even begin to catch on to what he was now spouting, the prince cleared his throat, and began to speak as though reciting an epic of the ages.

"'Lo, our hero, a mysterious swordsman from the east, rushing to save a beautiful princess from the beast! He fights a dragon of bone and doom, yet his swords triumph over grimly gloom! Alas, he races not for her hand in marriage, but to retrieve a bike – not a _carriage_!"

…that ending needed work, but he could give it a solid six out of ten.

"…tough crowd," Olivert said, shrugging, after a pause filled only with silence and judgmental stares from his audience.

"I do apologise for my behavior yesterday," he told the princess instead. Speaking with Olivert seemed to be a challenge in sanity, and one that he was quickly losing. "I was afraid that my bike would be stolen or damaged, and may have been unnecessarily rude."

"Oh? Is a bike more valuable than a princess' favour, now?" _Oh, Goddess, did this brand of madness run in the family? _Thankfully, she schooled her expression, and curtsied before looking at him sincerely in the eyes. "I'm only teasing, Sir Marek. I can only imagine what might have happened if they succeeded in taking me away. I do wish to thank you for your assistance yesterday."

"Like I said, Princess Alfin, it's no trouble at all. And please just call me Galen." He felt old enough as it was, after Sara's comment the day before. Being addressed by a false last name only made things worse.

"Galen, then." She smiled brightly, every bit the Erebonian treasure adored by the masses. "I am in your debt. Please, if there is anything I can do to repay your favour, do not hesitate to ask."

He very pointedly ignored the teasing quality she'd deliberately injected into her tone. Weren't the upper echelons of nobility supposed to be uptight and proper all the time? Where did the members of the royal family find the time for such mischief?

"Still, though…" she mused. "They were rather mysterious, in some ways. They rarely showed any of the maliciousness one might expect from insurgents like themselves. In fact, they seemed to be almost as though in the grip of some sort of intense passion…"

He knew that. Through the Force, he could sense the Dark Side swirling within them and clouding their judgment, but there was no mistaking the passion they held for a cause grounded by a sense of justice.

"Victory at any cost," he responded. "C made that clear enough."

"To what end, though?"

"'_We are the fire that will purge this land of the tyrant's evil. We are the hammer that will mete out justice once and for all. We are the voice of the downtrodden and broken,'" _he recited. "I can only imagine who they could be referring to."

Who, indeed? He wasn't exactly up to date on the empire's affairs.

"Several candidates, likely," Sara said. "They could be disgruntled at a ruling noble, someone caught up in the empire's policies, one of the enemies of the Emperor…" She shrugged. "The possibilities are endless, really."

"Rest assured, dear sister," Olivert said, affectionately patting her head. "The RMP will be investigating this matter fully. We should know more information in the coming days."

"Hopefully." Sensing that the matter with the ILF was temporarily concluded, Rean looked toward Sara, intending to propose the first phase of his plan. "Instructor Sara?"

"Hmm? What's up?"

"Would it be possible to return with you and your class to Trista? I was hoping to gain access to a library, and –"

"You've got it, boss!" She flashed him a thumbs up before he'd even finished framing his proposal.

He blinked. Behind her, he could see some of her students looking on with resignation. Was she always so flippant about everything? "A library, huh? A man of culture?"

"I was hoping to learn more about Erebonia," he said honestly. "And ah, no offense, but do you really have the authority to do that? Don't you need to contact someone a little higher up?"

"Ah, how cruel! What have I done to deserve such an insult?" She clutched at her heart dramatically, before breaking into a nonchalant shrug once more. "Bah, I'm sure it'll be fine. I'll just need to put in a word with Principal Vandyck. Besides, I'm sure he'll want to meet and thank you for your help."

"Even if he doesn't, I can offer support in my own capacity as well," Olivert added suddenly. "I _am _a member of the board of directors, after all."

Rean stared blankly at the prince, looking for any sign of a lie. He continued smiling radiantly, with no traces of deception on his part.

_Oh, Aidios._

"You're on the board of directors," he said flatly. "You."

"Why, yes I am! The chairman, as a matter of fact."

"_Aidios help these students," _he muttered under his breath.

"Hmm? What was that?"

"Nothing," he insisted. "Thank you very much for your help."

"Was there something you were hoping to find?" He turned to face the one who had spoken; the bespectacled girl from earlier. If any of that fear or uncertainty he thought he'd seen earlier remained, he couldn't sense it any more.

"I frequent the library a lot," she explained. "I might know if any of the books are available."

"Mostly just trying to refresh my knowledge of Erebonia. It has been a long time since I last visited," he said. "Thank you for offering though, Miss…"

He trailed off. It was then that Elise looked up, startled, and quickly began introducing him to her classmates.

A very diverse bunch indeed. He hadn't ventured out much further than Ymir as a child, but from what he could tell Class VII was really a broad mixing pot of students.

"…and you already know Galen Marek. He saved us in the catacombs yesterday and helped cover our retreat," she finished.

The one he now knew as Alisa bowed toward him gratefully, with every bit of decorum to be expected of an upper class Erebonian, even if she wasn't truly a noble. The Reinford name was well-known, even in the relatively rural region of Ymir.

"I know you've already heard it before, but thank you for helping my classmates, Mister Marek," she said. "I can't imagine what might have happened had you not arrived."

He could imagine. That Force vision wasn't something he would forget any time soon.

"Just Galen, please. Mister Marek makes me feel old."

Strangely, some of the students turned to look at their instructor at that statement. Probably too much effort to decipher that. More than likely, she'd said the same thing as him.

"How old are you, anyway?" Alisa asked, curious.

"How old do you think?" He was genuinely interested in knowing. PROXY always did say that Starkiller was often mistaken for being in his late twenties, even when he had been the same age as Rean when he confronted Darth Vader.

"Umm…" She looked at her classmates, but found no support there. "Forty?"

…did he really seem _that _old?

He would blame the helmet, he decided. He didn't want to accept the alternative.

"Younger?" she tried again, mild embarrassed.

"Something like that," he deflected. It was probably better for all parties involved that he ended that line of questioning. It would hardly do well for his ego if her next guess was only a few years younger.

"Ah, but how could youthfulness compare to the brilliant flame of the soul?" Olivert quickly came to the rescue, even if that flamboyant statement was utterly indecipherable. "I'm sure –"

"Oh! You're all here!"

Heads looked up toward the staircase from where that voice came from. There was a boy with a head full of blonde hair, a charming smile on his face, standing beside Machias' father that Rean had briefly met yesterday. Given the context, there was only one person he could be.

"Cedric Reise Arnor," he said, bowing slightly as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "On behalf of the royal family, I thank you all for saving my sister."

So this was the crown prince? Rean didn't quite know what to think about him. To him, the boy practically radiated a sense of loneliness and doubt over his own abilities, despite his calm and friendly façade.

"I- it's an honour!" Elliot spoke on behalf of Class VII.

"Likewise," Rean said.

The governor took a moment to smile warmly at his son, who looked a little embarrassed at being acknowledged. Then, he regarded Rean gratefully.

"I never got the chance to thank you, yesterday," he said. "Both for coming to our aid in the park, and for rescuing the princess and the students."

Left unsaid was that he'd rescued Machias in particular. Father and son certainly seemed to be the stoic type.

"You were in a meeting with father?" Alfin asked the governor respectfully.

"Chancellor Osborne and I, actually," the older Regnitz replied. "We were discussing the attacks from yesterday, and the upcoming trade conference in Crosbell."

"The Blood and Iron Chancellor is here?" Jusis, who'd been quiet thus far, questioned directly.

"I am indeed," a voice boomed, and the students looked startled as they turned to face the one who had spoken.

The chancellor was an intimidating sight indeed. Tall, broad-shouldered and with an unflinching aura about him, Rean could see why he was simultaneously respected and feared.

Even eight years ago, when he had just barely assumed the position, Rean had heard of how he had executed his policies without compromise. Just what else might he have done during his absence?

He tried probing deeper, reading into who the man was as a person, reaching carefully through the Force as soul met soul –

He had to stifle a gasp, taking a small step backward in surprise at both at what he felt and _didn't _feel.

Chancellor Giliath Osborne was a man of many ambitions, with the determination to see them through. He was a rock standing strong against the rushing tides, withstanding all in his path.

What Rean couldn't sense was what he was thinking. There was a deep, fading feeling of anguish, but beyond that everything else was nigh indecipherable. Was he like C, an expert over his emotions? Or was the veil that shrouded his mind something else entirely?

But deep beneath it all, what troubled Rean the most was how he could feel just the faintest taint of darkness within his soul. All beings had a touch of the Dark Side, of course, ever-present within the Unifying Force – but his was murkier and more turbid still. It was nauseating lingering in its presence, and Rean hurriedly withdrew, a small spike of pain registering near his heart.

Did it reflect who the chancellor was? Was this simply a representation of the passion that drove the chancellor in implementing his expansionist policies?

Then, there was a whole other matter – Rean could feel just the faintest of connections between himself and the chancellor. It was nowhere as strong as the ones between him and Elise or his parents, the pillars of strength that sustained him all those years spent on the moon, but it was _there. _

Try as he might, he just couldn't _remember _ever having met him in person. Had the chancellor visited Ymir at some point?

That small misstep didn't go unnoticed by the chancellor. Osborne looked at Rean, making a quick assessment of the supposed swordsman from the east. Just as quickly, he dismissed Rean, addressing the group as a whole.

"I am pleased to see that all of you are unharmed," he intoned deeply, looking first at the prince and princess and then at the students. "Class VII has performed admirably. Truly, those of us of Heimdallr owe you greatly for your assistance in yesterday's events."

"We merely did our duty as students, Chancellor Osborne," Laura said.

"Erebonia's future is bright indeed," he praised. He regarded Rean critically. "And you must be Galen Marek, then. Governor Regnitz has informed me of your assistance in rescuing the princess."

"The pleasure is mine," Rean said, leveling his voice as best he could. There was still something that felt strangely off about the chancellor, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"And I see the young Bracer is here as well," Osborne turned his attention to Sara. Huh. So she was a former Bracer?

… Rean honestly couldn't see her as one. Weren't they meant to be dependable folk that freely helped out those in need? Emphasis on _dependable_, of course.

"I'm in Thors thanks to you, Osborne," Sara said, although her tone didn't quite match her words.

"I'm sure the students stand to learn well from you. The Purple Lightning is not without renown, after all."

There was some kind of byplay going on here, but Rean was definitely missing the underlying context. Osborne addressed the students once more.

"I hope that your time in the capital has been fruitful. If I may be so bold, I wish to impart some advice, from one Thors graduate to another," he began saying. "Continue to nurture and grow the bonds you hold. Train your bodies and wills of steel; accept nothing but your very best. Tumultuous times lay ahead of us, as recent events have shown, that will no doubt test your very limits."

The chancellor knew more than he let on, that much was certain. His heart had been mostly dulled during his address, but _something _had surged within as he made that declaration.

It seemed like Rean found his first topic to begin researching on.

With that final parting message, Giliath Osborne strode out of the reception hall, an imposing figure in every sense of the word.

"Well, that was something," Sara whistled, while the class was mostly stunned. "Mister 'Blood and Iron' sure doesn't mince words."

"Don't mind the Chancellor," Governor Regnitz said, mildly apologetic. "He can come across as a little brash at times."

"He certainly fits his reputation," Machias commented.

"In that we are in agreement."

Abruptly, Jusis and Machias looked at each other, and promptly denied ever having had that exchange of words.

"Well then," Sara sighed, stretching her back. "Probably best that we head off, kids. We need to get back to Thors. You can catch up with each other another time." She cocked her head toward Rean. "You coming along?"

He frowned under his helmet, thinking. "Will I be able to bring my hoverbike along?"

"Always thinking about the bike, huh?" Princess Alfin sighed dramatically. "Alas, another lady's heart is broken." Sara played along, leaning over backward, pressing the back of one hand over her forehead while the other clutched her chest dramatically.

He sighed. "Do you really have to be like that?"

"You get used to it," Fie advised.

"We could always call in a favour from all the royalty gathered here. I'm sure they can pull strings to get even the Eisengraf if you need it," Sara said nonchalantly, without even glancing at the assembled princes and princess for permission. "How fast does that bike go, anyway? Is it really _that _valuable to you?"

"It belonged to my master," Rean admitted. That, at least, caught the interest of the assembled swordsmen. "And as for its top speed… somewhere in the range of five hundred kilom –" he corrected himself mid-sentence. Damned metric units. "Five _thousand_ selge per hour, give or take –"

"Bullshit." Multiple voices spoke at the same time.

He just stared at them blankly. Oh, Goddess, was he becoming like PROXY, ever-cynical about the state of technology in Erebonia?

"T- that's faster than even an airship!" Alisa exclaimed once she finally accepted that he was, in fact, not lying. "It's scientifically impossible!"

He shrugged. "My master was very good with technology."

"Alright, boys and girls, change of plans," Sara declared, already walking over to Rean and resting an elbow on his shoulder. "You can take the train back yourselves. Your instructor's about to go for a ride."

"I don't think –"

"Now, now, Galen," Sara tutted, dragging him toward the door as he looked around at the students helplessly, lost. "It's not gentlemanly to retract an offer and leave a girl hanging."

"I never offered –"

"Meh, you asked to join us in Trista. That's as good as one."

"The bike's really built only for one –"

"We can make room," Sara countered, tugging on him with a surprising amount of force for her frame. "Come on, now. Daylight's burning!"

"Someone help?" he tried one final time, hoping that his desperation would somehow leak through despite the helmet covering his face. "Please?"

The students looked at him pityingly, but did not intervene. Olivert and Alfin smiled at him brightly as he squirmed, enthusiastically waving their hands as Rean was bodily dragged out of the palace.

"Have a safe trip!" Alfin shouted mischievously behind their backs, not bothering to hide her amusement.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" her older brother added.

And so it was that after repeatedly trying (and failing) to get Sara to reconsider her idea, Rean now found himself riding on his hoverbike, Sara pressed against his back (something he was _very _aware of), as the wind rushed against them. He very decidedly ignored Sara's repeated requests and whining for him to go faster, when they were already traveling at a respectful two hundred kilometers an hour, ten meters above the ground.

Yes, they weren't the accepted units in Zemuria, but Rean would not let the madness that was Erebonia take over his mind. If Galactic units of measurement were the only safe haven he had, he would make damned sure to keep it that way.

"You sure know all the best ways to keep a girl happy, Galen-boy!" Sara shouted against the rushing wind, her windswept hair lightly brushing at what was exposed of his neck where helmet met the robes he'd appropriated from Starkiller. "Ooh, right turn now!"

He swerved to avoid yet another tree, correcting his course, ignoring the loud whoop from Sara as he did so.

"Remind me again why we couldn't just use the highway?" he sighed tiredly.

"Pfft, when you have a baby like this, you've got to show what it can do!"

For a moment, she lifted both hands off from around his shoulders, spreading them out against the wind. He was half-tempted to swerve hard and send her tumbling painfully off the speeder, but alas PROXY hadn't successfully rid him of his morals during their training. Shame.

At least they were making good progress to Trista, now. If it was only half an hour by train, it had to take significantly less than that by his speeder, even if it wasn't traveling at top speed.

"You know, I'm surprised you're trusting me that easily," he said, trying to at least make conversation. "I'd have expected at least _some _resistance when I requested to make use of the library."

"Maaaan, do we really have to go over the serious bits now?" Abruptly, he slowed down slightly, turning and staring at her in a way that hopefully conveyed a lack of amusement on his part.

He looked back to the front quickly enough, of course. The path she'd sent him off on was filled with obstacles that he had to avoid.

"Fine, fine," she sighed. "Well, if we're being _completely _honest, I don't trust you just yet."

"Ouch. Sure doesn't seem that way, though."

"Let me finish," she shushed him, finally not joking for once. "I don't trust you, but I think you've at least earned the benefit of the doubt, after saving my students like that. I don't know _how _you came to Heimdallr at precisely the right time, or why you're lying about the reason you wear your mask, but I am willing to trust that you don't mean my students or Thors any harm."

Well, well. It seemed like Sara was a lot more perceptive than she let on.

"I know a little of what it's like to want a fresh start, without being burdened by the past," she admitted. He slowed down just a bit more to turn toward her, but she swatted him on the shoulder. "Don't slow down now! Anyway, like I was saying, it'd be hypocritical of me to reject you before you even had a chance to prove your trustworthiness."

How could he even respond to _that?_

"I'm surprised you are capable of being serious," he said. "Trust me when I say that I won't let you down."

"Great!" she slapped him on the shoulder, and were it not for the Force's warning he would have violently jerked and _probably _sent them crashing into a rock. "Now, enough with the sentiment! Trista awaits!"

-o-o-o-

He sighed tiredly as he finally got off his speeder, a stark contrast to Sara's wide, enthusiastic grin, her short hair completely wild and windswept. At long last, he could park his speeder by the side of the dormitory she'd directed him to.

After an _hour _of riding at that same speed without even catching sight of Trista, he'd finally figured out that Sara had simply sent him off on a long, winding course, and refused to give him proper directions to Trista. It had taken an additional hour of finding his bearings once more before he finally made it to the city.

As he stepped through the door, he found the students already gathered inside, despite having set off on train _after_ he and Sara had departed. Sara slipped past him happily, heading off toward her room.

"Don't even ask," he warned Fie, already anticipating the girl's penchant for schadenfreude. Even then, she smirked at his misfortune.

"Sorry about instructor Sara," Elise said, wincing. "We understand the feeling."

"How do you even deal with her?" He threw his hands into the air, exasperated. "She somehow sent me looping around into the Kreuzen Province before finally admitting that she gave the wrong directions."

"With great patience and repeated reminders that murder is frowned upon," Jusis muttered. Heads turned toward him. The noble simply stared back at them. "I'm just saying what everyone is thinking."

"Sara has her moments, too," Elise tried defending her instructor.

"Name one," Fie challenged.

"She came to bail you guys out during the disaster that was the first field trip, didn't she?" Elise tried. "Remember when Jusis and Machias –"

"Point taken."

Rean sensed that there was a story there, but really he was too tired and annoyed to pursue that now. All he wanted was to find his room, get back to meditation, and hopefully find the time to begin some practice of the forms or begin his research in the library. It felt weird not having yet been forced to fight for his life against PROXY, despite it already being well after midday.

"Good afternoon, Master Galen!" a cheery voice greeted.

_What the –_

He whirled around, almost instinctively calling his lightsaber to his hand and igniting it to defend himself against the threat. PROXY's conditioning had run _waaay _too deep. When his mind finally caught up to instinct, he realised that the one who had spoken was a lady wearing a _maid costume_, of all things, bowing deferentially toward him.

She was also _extremely _subtle in his senses through the Force, as though a mere blip in the corners of his vision, flickering in and out of view.

_Oh, be still my beating heart._

"Sharon! Don't startle Galen!" Alisa scolded. She then spoke apologetically, "Sorry about that. Sharon's one of the most trusted of my family's servants –"

"Thank you for your kind words, Lady Alisa!"

"- who _somehow _managed to become the caretaker in charge of the Class VII dormitory. Don't ask – I don't know how, either."

"She makes really good food," Elliot added.

"And yours too, Master Elliot!" She bowed once more, before speaking to Rean pleasantly. "As Lady Alisa has so kindly explained, I am but a humble servant to her and her classmates. I have taken the initiative to prepare the guest room for your stay here. If there is anything I can help you with, _please _do not hesitate to ask."

Her words were cheerful, but he knew he was being very carefully assessed. This woman was _powerful. _More than powerful; she was_ deadly. _In a straight-on fight, he wasn't entirely sure he could emerge the victor, given his lack of experience in assessing how well he might fight against biological opponents rather than his droid instructor.

Why was she even a maid?!

And again – what in the _kriffing Force's name _had happened to the collective sanity of Erebonia in the years he'd been gone?!

"Ah, Sharon?" Alisa said uncertainly. "I think you broke him."

"Oh, dear," Sharon giggled. "Perhaps I should find a way to fix him? I do hear that –"

"NO!"

"You startled me, is all," Rean finally said. "Thank you very much. I'm not sure how long I will be staying in the dormitory, but I hope to be out of your hair once I find a way to support myself."

"Stay as long as you need," Sara suddenly said, appearing out of nowhere, her wet hair loosely arranged around her head, with a towel draped around her neck. "Principal Vandyck wouldn't mind, and Olivert will find a way to force you to stay, anyway."

"How did you even already find the time to take a shower?"

"You can't just ask a woman that!" She gasped. "Speaking of: we've got males and females in the same set of dorms, so I'll tell you the same thing I told the kids earlier in the year. I know some of these girls here are real beauties, but remember that you're twice their age and –"

"Aaaand I'm out," he said, for the better health of his sanity, taking extra care to not even so much as _look _in the direction of the girls. He turned to Sharon. "Would you mind showing me to the guest room, please?"

"Of course, Master Galen! Please come with me."

As they walked along the corridor, Rean quietly spoke just loud enough for her ears only. "Full disclosure, just so you don't assassinate me in my sleep – I know that you're not just a maid."

"Oh? I have no idea what you're talking about, Master Galen."

"Sure, sure. Just know that I don't mean the kids any harm. Once I get myself set up, I'll be making my way out of the dormitory."

"There's no need for that, Master Galen." She finally stopped, looking at him in the eye, a rare bit of seriousness leaking through the façade she put up. Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. "Lady Alisa and Lady Elise have told me _alllll _about how you valiantly saved the day in Heimdallr. It would be a pleasure to serve one such as yourself."

"… right."

Hopefully, he'd conveyed his sincerity. Though PROXY had trained him well, he really hoped his days of waking up to defend himself from a lightsaber swing to the neck were over.

"This is your room, here." She paused, gesturing to a closed door. He opened it, and stepped inside. It was smaller than his room in Ymir, but larger than his living quarters in the _Rogue Shadow_, not that he ever truly stayed within its boundaries much. Beyond a bed, pillows and an empty eardrobe, it was completely barren.

Just the way he was used to, really.

"Thank you very much, Sharon."

"Don't mention it, Master Galen. Please do not hesitate to call on me for any assistance."

With that, she left the room, leaving him honestly still wondering whether or not he should take precautions against assassination.

He closed the door, locking it for good measure. By the Force, he really needed some meditation right now.

Drills with the vibroblade would come later. The room was a little small for practice of some of the lightsaber forms, particularly those that focused on heavily mobility like Ataru or Juyo, but sequences from others such as Shii-Cho or Soresu could feasibly be practiced in his room. He sorely needed to get used to the feel of his vibroblades, since everything from balance to length differed from his lightsabers. He doubted his lightsabers would see much use in the immediate future, at least until he figured out some of his longer-term goals.

_Same as always, then. The Codes._

Lightsabers hovered above the ground, components detaching from one another, slowly spinning…

_There is no emotion, there is peace…_


	6. Chapter 6

Like clockwork, he awoke before the sun had risen. Damn PROXY and his commitment to routine.

_Ah, PROXY. Wonder how he's doing._

Was he back in hibernation, joining his Master in whatever death was left for droids, never to reawaken? Or was he watching over Rean even now, a silent guardian?

…yeah, like that would ever happen. If he were to return to Erebonia, it would likely be only to attempt to kill him in his sleep, just to test whether or not Rean kept up with his training.

Well, then. Shower, and then drills. He could skip the meditation for this morning, given how much of an itch he'd worked up from not having done proper combat practice for the first time in eight years.

He felt a little silly, emerging from his room with the helmet already on his head, wearing his night-clothes and carrying both his toiletries and the usual training attire he would change into. Thankfully, this early, no one should be awake, even Fie. He could –

"Good morning to you, Master Galen!"

"Gah!" he jumped, startled, as Sharon _somehow _eluded his senses once more. It was only on focusing hard that he realised that yes, she was still visible to the Force. She stood to the side, smiling innocently, as though it wasn't still currently well before dawn, and that no maid, no matter how industrious they were, should be awake at this ungodly time.

"Stop doing that!"

"Doing what, Master Galen?"

"You know what? Never mind." He sighed, walking toward the toilet. Sharon continued following him. "Forget why you're awake; _why_ are you following me to the bathroom?"

"I was wondering if you would require assistance in washing your –"

"No." At this point, he wondered if Sharon's façade was just being kept up for her personal amusement. Though they thought him an old fart in his thirties or forties, he was very much a seventeen-year-old boy completely isolated from civilisation for more than half his life, and no amount of meditation over the Jedi code could control his biological responses to that sort of provocation.

Hell, if even Anakin Skywalker, Jedi _Master _in all but title, could succumb to temptation that plagued all organics as he had with Padme Amidala, there was no way Rean could fully subdue his body's hormones.

"Very well, then. I shall have a meal ready for you after you finish with your shower. Know that I am most willing to wash up any stains if you see any need to –"

_Ignore ignore ignore. _Hurriedly, he sped off to the toilet, slamming the door shut. He made sure to take the extra time needed in the shower to calm his mind down.

When he was finally finished with his shower, it was Galen Marek that emerged from the bathroom, not Rean Schwarzer. Double checking that helmet, vambraces, shoulder-guards, robes and lightsabers were on his person, he made his way down the stairs.

…only to come face to face with a venerable _feast _spread before him on the table.

"Why, Sharon," he groaned. "_Why?"_

"I heard from Master Elliot yesterday about how famished you were back in Heimdallr. I took the liberty of ensuring that you are well-fed during your stay in the Class VII dormitory."

"Is this all really necessary?"

"It would reflect poorly on the Reinford name if one of Lady Alisa's guests was not treated to the best of my ability." She bowed. "Please, accept this offer of breakfast. Unless it is not to your liking?"

She smiled serenely, hands clasped in front of her. Damn Sharon. Somehow, she knew all the right buttons to push.

Just who was this person masquerading as a maid?

Mentally, he swore never to allow Sara, Sharon, Olivert and PROXY to meet. The greater galaxy would implode upon itself.

He exposed the lower half of his helmet, then took his first mouthful of food –

_Oh, heavens._

Sharon _knew _how much he enjoyed the food. He glared at her. "I don't know whether to hate or love you."

"Such a relationship is most prohibited among –"

"Definitely the former, now." He resolved not to make conversation for the rest of the meal. That way lay madness.

When he was done, he was surprised by just how much he'd eaten. PROXY would have berated him for such gluttony.

"I am glad you enjoy the meal, Master Galen. Please allow me to wash up."

"Are you sure?" He frowned. There were quite a lot of plates that he'd singlehandedly cleared, and using the Force to telekinetically clean them was a fairly trivial task.

Of course, Jedi and Sith alike would frown upon using the divine power of the Force for something so frivolous as simple chores.

"Go ahead, Master Galen," she confirmed. "I am only most happy to serve."

"If you're sure, then." He nodded at her gratefully, then left the dormitory. Sara had made mention of an academy field somewhere within Thors, and he was determined to get in some quality practice with the forms.

He made his way over to the academy field, pausing only briefly to admire the sight of the gates to Thors Military Academy proper. Sara had informed him he would have a meeting with Principal Vandyck later in the day to discuss arrangements for the near future, and he presumed he would have time to unleash his childhood excitement over the thought of stepping into Thors when the time came.

He placed himself in the middle of the field, stretching his senses in the Force, feeling the sheer sense of _life_ stirring all around him. He lost himself in the Force, moving as it willed, sinking into the motions of the lightsaber forms.

_Shii-Cho. Freedom of movement._

_Makashi. Elegance, poise, control._

_Soresu. An impenetrable fortress._

_Ataru. Relentless and unceasing._

_Shien. Tempered aggression._

_Niman –_

He was about to begin transitioning into the movements of Form VI, about an hour after he began practice, when he was suddenly acutely aware of a second person joining him in the field. A bright beacon within the Force, he didn't even need to turn to look to know who it was.

"You're here early," he spoke without so much as turning to Elise, as he twirled a single vibroblade, the other still untouched. Single saber variants first, then double sabers after.

"Thought I should get some training in," she responded, lightly stretching before unsheathing her tachi. "The mess in Heimdallr only showed that I need to improve further."

There was an almost zealous determination in her now, but he was worried it might be too much for her. Striving to protect others as she'd professed to that night in the guild was one thing, willingly sacrificing her life for others was another.

"You still have years ahead of you," he said, taking a temporary reprieve from training. Under his helmet, a sheen of sweat had built up, but he was hardly about to remove it just so he could wipe it off. "For someone only fifteen years old, you've already achieved a lot."

"Fie's fifteen too," she argued.

"_Both _of you are formidable fighters for your age. There's no need to rush things."

"I know," she said, focusing on the air in front of her momentarily, before drawing her sword in a fast strike. Rean studied her form closely. There were openings, certainly, but master Ka-fai had clearly trained her well.

"I know," she repeated, slightly frustrated. "It's just… I _need_ to get stronger. After Heimdallr, and that talk about Rean over dinner, I just…"

She trailed off. He understood that almost paradoxical mix of drive and loss. It was what sustained him all those years on the moon, training for the day when he'd finally be able to see his family again.

Funny how things turned out. Here he was now, in front of his sister, yet in all respects a complete stranger, powerless to help the one he wanted to most.

What had all his training even been for?

He observed her movements closely as she proceeded through the drills of the Eight Leaves school of swordsmanship. He didn't know much about the style beyond what he'd eavesdropped from when master Ka-fai had visited Father, but he did know that it drew influences from a variety of different eastern styles, distilling their qualities in a manner that balanced their strengths and weaknesses.

As he studied Elise now, he could see some essence of that philosophy shining through. Her movements were well-controlled, without a heavy emphasis on either defense or offense. At the same time, there was no mistaking the deadliness at its heart.

"Which style is that?" he couldn't refrain from asking. The legendary swordsman's style was something he'd always wondered about, and he wanted to know about how it compared to the ways of the lightsaber.

"This is the second form of the Eight Leaves," Elise replied between forceful exhalations as her blade sliced through the air. "Gale."

He could certainly see why it had that name. "Fast and precise strikes with sweeping movements, while still maintaining control and not compromising on balance. Excellent at taking down multiple targets."

In a way, it was almost like Niman, with how much it emphasised on balance without overcommitment. Even within Niman there were many variant styles; Cin Drallig's take on it with heavy influences from Makashi was vastly different from Starkiller's preferred version that drew on his mastery of Shien.

"You saw through all that so fast?" she asked, surprised.

"One of my forms works in a similar way," he admitted. He needed to analyse his opponents quickly, since PROXY had literally hundreds of modules each with their own unique styles at his disposal. Still, he could sense that there was something else that Elise still hadn't demonstrated. "Would you mind showing me it in action?"

For a moment she didn't speak, eyes closed in concentration, then –

"Gale!"

She dashed through the air, slashing at imaginary targets, then returned to the original spot she stood in all in an instant, before sheathing her tachi once more. In that moment, he felt the Force surge through her, empowering her as though with a burst of Force Speed.

"Was that a craft?"

"Yeah," she panted. "I'm still trying to iron out the kinks."

"Hmm," he hummed in consideration for a moment. "Let me try something…" He couldn't quite replicate the exact workings of her form, but…

He gave a few experimental swings of his blade, feeling out how he wanted his own adaptation of Elise's demonstration to work. At its core, speed, precision and an ability to deal with multiple targets were its purposes.

Lightsaber combat didn't factor in the art of rapid blade-drawing in its use, and so he couldn't copy his sister's exact movements. What he could do to boost his speed and reach, though, was to make use of the sole advantage he had over those of Erebonia.

A deep understanding of the Force.

He drew on the Force, letting its energies diffuse every fiber of his being, picturing the variation of a technique he'd performed thousands of times over.

Then, in a flash, he struck, chaining the signature _pushing slash_ that was a staple of Form Six multiple times, sending gales of Force energy at his chosen imaginary opponents. The air shimmered just a slight tinge of blue as they passed, a torrent of leaves swept along in their wake.

"You copied my technique," Elise half-accused, half-stated. "That was _Gale."_

"It was inspired by your form, but I adapted it from a sequence I learnt before," he corrected. "More importantly, though – I think I might be able to help you improve your own technique, and mine as well."

The frown that creased her face deepened for a moment as she processed the words, before her eyes widened with realisation, already preparing her blade as she stood before him in a ready stance.

It seemed that Rean _could _help his sister, after all.

And so it was that they began sparring, Niman against Gale; brother against sister. Elise had demanded for him not to hold back, but there was no way he could simply go through with that.

Instead, he mimicked PROXY as best he could, pushing her to her very limits without immediately ending the fight. There really wasn't much benefit to her learning if he simply disarmed her with a _sun djem _right from the get-go, beyond heightening her already profound sense of frustration.

It was only the ringing of the bell that broke them out of their intense spar, Elise's face flushed red with sweat while Rean hadn't been pushed just quite as far. For the duration of their battle, she had felt at peace for the first time since he'd met her in the flesh in Heimdallr, her soul no longer weighed down by the mess of emotions that had built up, focused entirely only on facing Galen Marek in combat.

In some ways, it was almost reminiscent of those bygone halcyon days back in Ymir.

"Good fight," he said, catching his breath as he secured his vibroblade onto his back.

"Same to you," she panted. "I still wish you didn't hold back, though."

"You could tell?"

She snorted, a stark contrast to the girl he'd known ages ago. Time had truly changed them both. "You managed to beat G and the Zoro-Agruga singlehandedly. There's no chance that you _weren't _holding back in our spar."

"Fair enough," he acquiesed. "I hope it was fruitful, though."

"Very," she affirmed. Her eyes gazed into empty space, as she reflected over their short duel. "You highlighted the flaw in my guard during the first engagement, and showed me how the form could be changed and adapted for a more single-target focus. There are some elements of your take on _Gale _that I might incorporate into my own form, actually."

"Glad to help." He smiled fondly, as she grew more thoughtful and yet excited with each word she spoke. "I hope to spar with you again soon."

"You can count on it." She smiled brightly, nodding slightly toward him. His heart wrenched, a bittersweet sensation, as look alone almost made him want to blurt out the secret he'd been keeping from her. "Next time, I'll make sure you don't hold back."

She'd always been the type to think things over and act cautiously, acting as the perfect foil to a younger Rean's foolhardy nature. Now, that thoughtfulness was being channeled into a different aspect, analyzing her mistakes and allowing meaningful reflection.

"Oi!" Suddenly, Sara appeared from the corner of the field, a meat skewer held in one hand as she snacked in it, looking at the pair of them. Startled, Elise stumbled backward.

Sara took a moment to take a bite of what he _assumed_ was her breakfast, swallowing purposefully before continuing, a strange gleam in her eyes. "Galen! I thought I told you not to fraternise with my students? I know little Elise is a real catch, but I'll have you know that she's only fifteen and –"

"INSTRUCTOR SARA!"

"- you've already gotten her all hot and bothered." She wiggled her brows, gesturing to Elise's face. Was it his imagination, or was it now becoming redder than it'd been?

Wait, no – this was _not _territory he wanted to venture in. Teasing him over the other students was one thing, but Elise was his sister, damn it!

Sara's smirk widened at her student's obvious discomfort. "In fact, you've distracted her so much that she's now late for class."

"Late for –" Elise blurted our, then withdrew her ARCUS to check the time, before letting loose an expletive. Who knew that his sister could have developed such a vile tongue? "Sorry Galen, got to go, bye!"

With that, she dashed off toward the direction of the main school complex.

"…I can assure you, Sara, we were only sparring."

"Sparring. Riiiiiiight," Sara drawled, although her tone made it clear that she was just trying to get a rise out of him. "Pretty sure my star student isn't going to be late for class because of _sparring._"

"Why _are _you here, anyway?" He tried changing the subject. "Aren't you meant to be their teacher?"

"Pssh, those kids can study a little on their own. A hungry instructor's an angry instructor." She waved the skewer around, small fragments of food flaking off. "It's been, what, almost five months now? No need to break the nice routine we've set up."

"… did Elise even realise that?"

"Ehh, she'll figure it out once she gets to class and they all start grumbling about me being late again," she said nonchalantly, eating the last of her breakfast. "Such impatient kids, really. Anyway, since you're here, you should know that old Vandyck's free to see you any time today."

Excellent. Perhaps he would soon be able to start making preparations for what he would do to make sense of the Force vision.

"Thanks for the update," he said. "I'll see him immediately."

"No rush, no rush," she waved him off, then tilted her head curiously to one side. "In all seriousness, though: when did you and Elise get so chummy? She took a whole _month_ before finally training regularly with Laura. Before that, she was a secretive, antisocial, grumbly mess. Maybe worse than Fie, even."

"Really?" That was news to him. Elise had been shy as a child, but he didn't get that impression from her since his return.

"Mmhmm," she hummed. "She's loads better now, of course, but I could barely get her to talk at the beginning! Me! Can you believe that?"

"Yes?"

"Bah, you're no fun," she grumbled. "Fact stays the same though. She trusts you, and you better not do anything to hurt her."

Her tone took on a warning quality toward the end. Seemed like Elise had a little guardian angel of her own, although he would never verbally associate _Sara_ with an angel.

"Will do."

She took a moment longer to stare searchingly at him. Satisfied, she broke away, burping loudly. "Alright, then! Time to get some knowledge down the brains of those students of mine!"

Without a further word, she strolled toward the school complex.

Well, he'd better get a move on, too. Slowly, he trailed behind her, making his way through the main building to where Principal Vandyck's office was situated.

-o-o-o-

"Galen Marek, I presume," Principal Vandyck greeted. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I heard from Instructor Valestein how you saved the lives of some of our students and foiled the plans of the Imperial Liberation Front. You have my thanks."

"It was my pleasure," Rean said to the heavily built man, who despite his whitened hair and thick beard and mustache still gave off a sense of youthful power. He'd heard of the principal in the past, how he'd been a former general that turned to educating the younger generation after his military days were over.

Excitement at meeting an idol of his could wait. Best get on with the real reason why he was meeting the principal. "I assume that Sara also mentioned why I have requested to tag along to Trista?"

"Straight to business, then?" He chuckled. "Instructor Valestein did say you were the serious type."

"Did she, now?" Gossiping about him, was she?

"I believe her exact words were 'fun to tease'," he quoted dryly. "Congratulations. I believe you've garnered her attention for some time, if what she's told me about your bike is true."

"Thanks for the warning."

"On to matters, then. Sara has mentioned that you were keen on making use of the resources available within the academy, as well as Trista, to find out more about Erebonia."

"That is correct," he said. "My knowledge of the empire and the other powers of Zemuria has been rusty, of late. I hope to remedy that deficiency."

"You must come from some ways off, if you are unaware of recent events happening in Erebonia."

Was he probing into Rean's background? He tried to read the man, but Vandyck remained utterly emotionless, sitting in his chair serenely as he waited for Rean's response.

"Do not fret," Vandyck calmly reassured him. "If you do not wish to speak of it, I won't pry. I've certainly dealt with a fair many people with a past they were initially unwilling to reveal."

He chuckled lightly. Was this some sort of inside joke Rean wasn't privy to?

"Ah, but I digress," he continued saying. "If you wish to make use of our facilities here, you are more than welcome to do so. So long as you do not intend harm of any of her students, Thors' doors shall forever remain open to any of her friends."

"That's very generous of you. Thank you."

"There is a matter that has come to my attention, however," Vandyck began after a moment's pause. "Sara has informed me that you lack the mira to find a place of your own."

"It shouldn't remain a problem for too long. Once I am settled down here, I intend to hunt nearby monsters for septium."

"Were you anyone else, I would strongly advise against that course of action, lest your hubris and overconfidence lead to your death." The principal smiled faintly. "Sara and Prince Olivert have spoken favourably of you, however. The prince was particularly adamant that you remain in Trista even if, I quote, you chose to '_break the hearts of the fair maidens of Trista by having relations with a bike'."_

Rean sighed heavily. Even far away from the capital, the prince still found ways to reinforce his views that Erebonians had collectively lost all sanity. "I can assure you, that will not happen."

Not just because he wasn't in the least bit attracted to his master's hoverbike, but also simply due to the fact that pursuing a relationship was the last thing he wanted at this moment. He just didn't have the _time _for such frivolous matters.

Yes, he was painfully aware that he had been isolated from all civilisation for half his life, but he had more important matters on his mind now. There was some sort of impending catastrophe about to befall some as-yet unknown location that may or may not be within Erebonia, and Elise was somehow going to be caught within the crossfire.

"I assumed as much. Olivert can be quite difficult to deal with at times –"

"_Really? Didn't notice," _Rean muttered under his breath.

"- but he has a mind far sharper than many think him to possess. In fact, he graduated as the top of this academy just short of eight years ago now."

Huh. Rean supposed that despite the flippant attitude the prince presented, there was a certain wit and a keen mind buried within.

"In fact, he has put in a request regarding the handling of your current situation, and one I am carefully considering."

"Oh?" Rean piqued up, intrigued.

"Indeed," Vandyck said, then rose to stand from his chair. Now, at his full height, Rean could see why he was every bit the renowned military general respected by friend and foe alike. "Walk with me."

He strode over to the door to his office, opening it, then beckoned for Rean to follow. Seeing no other alternative, he did as he was bidden, curious as to where Vandyck was driving this conversation.

They made their way through the corridors of the academy, already bustling with activity in the quiet hours of the morning. Classes were in full swing, latecomers hurriedly dashing to their classrooms, pausing momentarily in fear when they came across the principal chancing upon their tardiness. It was only after he waved them on that they could heave a sigh of relief.

"Students do tend to be somewhat tardy after the celebrations in the festival," Vandyck explained. "Besides, I can hardly fault them for being late, when the noble students haven't yet returned to the academy."

"It gets busier than this?" As things were, he could hear teachers going about their respective lessons across many of the classrooms they passed by.

"Oh, yes," the principal replied. "Some of them have chosen to remain, but most of classes I and II have elected so escape the summer heat."

That seemed as good an opportunity to ask the question he'd been wondering about. "Speaking of classes – do the numbers mean anything?"

"Tradition has dictated that noble students are placed in classes I and II, while commoners are allocated to classes III, IV and V," he said, walking slowly. "Class VII is a more recent initiative to help bridge the gap between the upper and lower classes."

"The students have mentioned that to me," he said. Then, curious, he asked, "What about class VI?"

Vandyck stopped, turned to look at him, and sighed heavily. "There is no class VI."

"…Olivert?" There was only one man who could have concocted something so pointlessly ridiculous, was in a sufficiently high position to influence the school's decisions, and had a track record of a poor sense of humour.

"Indeed," Vandyck said tiredly. Rean got the sense that the venerable retired general knew far better than most how much the prince could test one's patience. "Let us not dwell on the matter any longer."

Rean nodded, and they continued walking once more. He was led down the staircase, and it seemed that Vandyck was intending to bring him out of the main complex. Near the door, however, they chanced upon a man with faintly red-pink hair, wearing thick spectacles who brightened up immediately after seeing the pair.

"Ah! Principal Vandyck! Lovely to see you, as always!"

The words came as a rapid flowing stream, brimming with enthusiasm and energy. He looked at Rean, faltered for a moment, then smiled widely. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting yet, good sir! Thomas Lysander, at your service." He bowed with a flourish.

"Galen Marek," Rean introduced. "I'm –"

"Ah! You must be the one that my dear colleague Sara mentioned yesterday!" He looked at Vandyck for confirmation. "How splendid! She mentioned that you came from far to the east! I hope we will be able to exchange stories some time, no?"

Colleague, huh? The man seemed to a little of a blabbermouth and perhaps more than a little carefree, but he exuded an educated air. He could sense that despite his friendly and harmless demeanor, the man was powerful. If nothing else, he at least _seemed_ more qualified than Sara to teach. "What exactly do you teach?"

"How rude of me!" He gasped. "I apologise. I educate the fine young minds of this academy in the fields of literature and history."

"History, you say?" That caught his attention. History was something he was sorely lacking in, and if he was going to make sense of his vision it would be his first port of call. "I was hoping to learn a little more about Erebonia and her neighbours some time. Would you mind –"

Suddenly, he was profoundly aware of how the instructor's eyes seemed as though to dilate even behind the thick glass of his lenses, breathing heavily. He stepped forward, making to clutch at Rean's hand, but Rean hurriedly retreated.

"_Oh boy,"_ he heard Vandyck sigh heavily.

"At last!" Instructor Thomas' voice took on a near-manic quality, wavering in excitement. "Someone interested in history! Fret not, Galen Marek! We shall soon be able to bring you up to speed!" He paced around, eyes glazed over, and Rean was beginning to think he'd made a very big mistake.

"Oh, but where to start, where to start indeed…" Thomas muttered under his breath, as though no longer aware of those around him. "Perhaps the Hundred Day War? But no, no, that wouldn't do, we would need to cover the geopolitical situation between Liberl and Erebonia first; so maybe then the very beginning with Dreichels' War of the Lions? But perhaps that's a little too far back, I'm sure you already know all about the legendary emperor's exploits, no matter how far away you come from, after all –"

Vandyck tried coughing politely once during his staff member's impromptu monologue, but failed to obtain any response. Failing that, he resorted to clearing his throat _loudly_. It was only then that the instructor finally paused, looking at the principal with confusion.

"Apologies, Instructor Thomas," Vandyck said, sounding only mildly sorry. "I was hoping to bring Mister Marek here for a tour of the school grounds."

Was that all? He meant no disrespect – Thors _was _every bit he'd imagined it to be and more – but why was he hiding the proposal that Olivert suggested behind such secrecy? Why couldn't he just discuss the matter with Rean directly?

"Oh, but of course!" Thomas said, a knowing gleam in his eyes. His head bobbed rapidly as he nodded at Rean. "Do enjoy your stay here in the academy, Mister Marek. I look forward to seeing you again very soon, and perhaps swapping tales of –"

"Instructor." Vandyck cut him off.

With a final apologetic glance at the pair, Thomas headed toward the staff room. The principal glanced at Rean, beginning to explain just what in the Force's name had happened.

"Instructor Thomas can be a little overbearing, at times," he explained. "His passion for history may sometimes be a little too much for some of his students. Nevertheless, he is the premier expert in all matters pertaining to the history and culture of Erebonia and beyond."

If Rean was being honest? Between being accosted by Olivert or Thomas, he would readily choose the latter. At least the instructor _seemed_ to be oblivious about the effect he had on others.

"It's no trouble, really. I might take him up on his offer to learn more about Erebonia."

"A wise decision," Vandyck said, putting that topic to a close. He gestured at the door. "Shall we?"

Rean nodded, and they continued their tour of the academy grounds once more.

He was shown around to the gymnasium, watching briefly as a class engaged in swimming lessons (apparently a highlight for those who stayed in the academy over summer). With classes in session, the training room for the fencing club was empty, but he was told that it was particularly popular among the upper-class students.

Next came the student council building. There wasn't much of a point showing him inside, since the various clubs operating within weren't gathering during the school day, and Vandyck had just briefly mentioned that there was where he could purchase supplies if ever necessary. Likewise, the auditorium was closed off, and he was told that it was only ever really used for formal assemblies or events.

The engineering building had caught his interest. After listening to PROXY's whining and grumbling about how backwards Erebonian society was, he had come to develop a slight interest in understanding orbal technology, a field that had never really caught his eye as a child. Now, though, with a keen understanding of the inner workings of his lightsabers, at least a passing knowledge for maintenance of his hoverbike, and some theoretical background understanding of technology seen in the days of the Galactic Republic where PROXY had managed to find time to fit lessons in, he wanted to know just _how_ orbal technology compared with what he was used to during his training with PROXY.

Of course, that was lower in his priority list when compared to his primary goal of obtaining information that could guide his next steps.

He was next shown to the library, and he was immediately taken by the sheer number of books within it. It had only two floors, but shelves upon shelves of books were stacked neatly within, a couple of students already taking the opportunity to study between their classes. A brief glance at the directory revealed that their catalogue ranged from instructional manuals on swordplay and more obscure combat crafts, to highly academic fields such as orbal theory, and more importantly, a record of all the major events in Erebonian recent history.

"There will be time to return later," Vandyck chided lightly, when Rean had been about to sit down and peruse a few books whose titles caught his eye. "For now, there is something else I wish to show you."

Reluctantly, he set down the copy of _Orbal Revolution and You_, following Vandyck out of the library. Principal Vandyck was leading him to what he recognised as the academy field, but now that there was a chance Rean wanted to ask something that had been bothering him throughout the tour.

"Principal Vandyck?"

"Hmm?"

"What is that over there?" He pointed to a distant corner of the school grounds that the principal had skipped over during the tour. To his senses in the Force, it felt _off _somehow, chaotic and yet orderly, a swirling mess of energy coalescing and dispersing.

The closest thing he could think of that it may be was a Force Nexus, but such places of power were exceedingly rare, and even Starkiller was unclear as to how they could be formed. Some theorised that the Dark Side nexus of Korriban was created as a direct result of the congregation of the Sith there, while others argued that the Sith came to Korriban _precisely _because of its potency and overwhelming connection with the Dark Side.

This didn't feel quite the same as Starkiller had described, though. It felt neither light nor dark, and instead more of a whirlpool of power, swirling and condensing within, light and dark mixed in equal measure to give the peculiar sensation of a location where the Force flowed freely.

"Oh?" Vandyck sounded surprised, but his expression betrayed none of his thoughts. "That is the old schoolhouse. It's been abandoned for quite some time, and only recently used for Class VII's initiation test. Is there something wrong?"

He was probing, Rean could tell. He could lie and say that he was just curious, or…

"It's hard to explain," he began to say. "It pricks at my senses, for lack of a better description."

He was toeing a dangerous line, but aside from simply blurting out everything he knew of the Force or outright denying that anything felt wrong, he didn't have many other options. He needed Vandyck's trust, at least for now, until he could think of a better plan.

"Interesting," Vandyck mused, then straightened his posture. How that was even possible for the stern military man, Rean had no clue. "Class VII's investigation into the schoolhouse has uncovered some strange mysteries. The complex seems to change each time they enter, and new monsters appear within with each passing month."

"Monsters?" That didn't quite make sense with his former theory. Force nexuses could attract and morph the local wildlife, but he seemed to be suggesting that monsters were being _created_ within.

"Unfortunately, I know scarcely more than you do," Vandyck said. "Class VII investigates the schoolhouse each month during their free day, led by young Miss Schwarzer. If anyone would know any further information regarding its mysteries, I believe it would be her."

…_Elise _was investigating this oddity in the Force?

"I'll ask her. Thank you."

"If your curiosity is sated for now, then, shall we proceed?"

Rean nodded. Vandyck proceeded toward the academy field proper, overlooking the vast grounds, where coincidence of all coincidences, class VII was engaging in what he assumed was combat class, led by none other than instructor Sara. They'd been divided into pairs, sparring in two on two battles.

Elliot and Gaius were paired up against Emma and Machias, while Alisa and Jusis were facing off against Laura and Fie. Elise seemed to have unfortunately drawn the short straw, sparring against an enthused Sara, who was expertly dodging all of his sister's strikes, much to her obvious annoyance.

Seemed like Sara's instructor title wasn't just for show, no matter how much her behaviour suggested otherwise. She was definitely no stranger to combat.

"Class VII," Vandyck said quietly to him, observing their lesson just beside Rean. "An experimental project of sorts, but one that shows great promise."

Rean nodded. He could sense the strong bonds being forged between the students, trust, passion and love flowing freely between them as they fought. Some connections were stronger than others, but they were _there _all the same.

He didn't know much about Erebonian society, but even as a child he knew of the divide between nobles and commoners. To have achieved this much with a single batch of students was commendable.

"They're good students. You should be proud."

"We are. In the four months they have been here, they have exceeded our expectations time and time again."

Silently, they continued watching the class progress in their spars. Elliot and Gaius were fighting at an easy pace, each complementing the strengths of the other perfectly. Their opponents were no slouches either, building distance from their foes and counterattacking at a distance.

As Emma fought, he could curiously sense a particularly strong connection with the Force possessed by her. It flared with each craft she used, within the blades of light she summoned and the healing powers she used to tend to Machias' injuries.

Was she aware of the ways of the Force? It didn't fully make sense, since she didn't seem to be using it to bolster her own physical abilities as Jedi and Sith did. Still, there were fringe groups like the Witches of Dathomir that exclusively made use of more metaphysical manifestations of Force powers, passed down within their tribes as spells. Was this the case here? Or was it something else entirely?

He shook his head. Something to consider for another time. Elise was still being handily beaten by Sara who was clearly holding back, and he winced as she was sent flying aside once more by her instructor's backhand. It seemed that Sara, like his own instructor, believed in tough love.

The remaining pair was far more curious, though. Judging from their individual skills alone, Jusis and Alisa, while no doubt well-trained in their own right, paled in comparison to a Fie and Laura who were in a league of their own. The movements of the latter pair were well-honed, with nary a wasted motion, and he recognised them as ones earned through sheer instinct forged by practical combat.

It was why he couldn't initially fathom why they were _losing._

Fie and Laura were, for lack of a better term, out of sync. Their individual skill clashed, obstructing and interfering with one another. The pair seemed as though they couldn't decide on a common course of action, dividing their focus, and allowing a more coordinated Jusis and Alisa to dominate the flow of the fight.

"You've noticed it too?" Vandyck asked, not letting his eyes off the spar.

"They don't gel together well," he agreed. They were clearly frustrated with themselves, aware of the fact that they should, by all metrics, be winning this fight.

_Still, though…_

"It doesn't make sense," Rean said slowly. "Laura and Fie _should _work almost perfectly with each other's abilities, at least in theory."

"Oh?" Vandyck finally turned toward him. "Could you explain?"

He didn't reply immediately, taking a moment longer to study their individual forms. Laura fought with a style similar to his own Djem So, favouring powerful strikes that revealed her opponents' weaknesses. It was built on a foundation of attack and _counter_-attack, and was a form that triumphed through dominance and perseverance.

Fie danced around her opponents, never stopping for a moment, and it didn't take much thinking to liken that to the form of Ataru. The dynamic maneuverability of Form IV was its greatest strength, harrying at opponents from a dozen different angles at once, its relentless offense the source of its defense.

Together, the styles should mix together well. It was why Starkiller made extensive use of both forms IV and V in his variant of Jar'Kai, combining their respective strengths to obscure their own weaknesses.

"Laura's form is well-balanced, relying on power-strikes without sacrificing on defense," he finally reasoned, facing the principal. "She shouldn't have any trouble holding off against Jusis and Alisa on her own, since their own styles favour probing and revealing an opponent' weaknesses. As long as she doesn't overcommit in her attacks, she can continue the battle indefinitely."

He gestured at Fie, who was now attempting to find an opening to strike at Alisa firing arrows in the backlines, but was blocked from a clear path by her own teammate. "Fie, on the other hand, excels at precision strikes. She can circle around to dispatch a foe, and then retreat behind the safety net created by Laura," he said, then extended his observations. "And they _know_ that that's how it should work in theory, which is exactly why they feel so frustrated that it isn't working."

They were agitated, and he didn't need his Force-senses to deduce that. It strained on their connection and teamwork, and in so doing only fed into further lack of coordination and more frustration; a vicious cycle.

"Well-observed, Galen Marek," Vandyck said, an eyebrow raised. "I'm impressed. Yes, Sara has mentioned that the pair behave awkwardly around each other, and are profoundly aware of how it affects them in battle."

Rean didn't further the conversation immediately, continuing to study the battle. Laura was duking it out with Jusis, and yet constantly had to keep an eye for ranged support by Alisa, while Fie never got a clear opening to advance.

Fie's weapons were an intriguing choice, able to be used as knives in close combat or as guns as a ranged option. It was perfect for both support and precision attacks that could cripple critical targets, but in this battle it simply wasn't working out. Likewise, Laura's form excelled at formal _duels, _overpowering a single foe, but with Alisa's continued interference she simply couldn't break past Jusis' guard.

It was almost as though they were being set up for failure. It was a poor matchup for a pair that couldn't efficiently coordinate their attacks.

"I'm not sure if this is the best way to remedy that," he said slowly.

_That _caught Vandyck's attention. "What do you mean?" he asked without hesitation.

"Jusis and Alisa are a bad matchup for them right now, and they won't let Laura and Fie have a chance to develop any sense of teamwork," he explained his reasoning, still watching their battle. Unnoticed by Rean, Vandyck's attention was fully focused on him. "Jusis and Alisa fight almost the way Laura and Fie _should_, oddly enough. Jusis forms a defensive wall for Alisa to freely support him from afar. Fie should be doing something similar with Laura, relying on the defense she creates, dipping in and out of the fight."

He paused, thinking further. What they needed was –

"What do you suggest, then?"

"For starters, they should be up against a single opponent. Fie's trying too hard to target Alisa in the back lines right now, as _would _be expected in the field, but frankly speaking their coordination isn't at that level yet. Failure now only sets them up for more failure."

"An interesting observation," Vandyck said, agreeing. "Perhaps we should request for the pair to swap with Miss Schwarzer?"

The pair, up against Sara? It would be an improvement to what was happening now, but –

"No," he said, perhaps a little too forcefully. Vandyck paused from where he'd been about to intervene on the lesson.

"Oh?" He sounded surprised.

Rean hurriedly continued his explanation. "Sara fights like Fie. She's too mobile for Laura to pin down, and her fighting style is only going to worsen their coordination. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to propose that Sara will just place Laura between Fie and herself, and there'd be no improvement over the present situation."

Adepts in Djem So and Ataru up against an Ataru master didn't much advance their own training in battle. When he'd been attempting to replicate Starkiller's style that was built off those two forms, squaring off against PROXY's Qui-Gon Jinn and Aayla Secura modules that were heavily based on Ataru had only slowed his own development. What those dynamic and offensive styles needed was the chance to evolve by being pitted up against an impenetrable wall, refining the techniques within them.

It had been Obi-Wan's Soresu that ultimately allowed him to proficiently make use of the Aggression and Perseverance forms, after all. It was the old adage of the unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, thereby paradoxically strengthening _both_. He could never break through PROXY's guard, but that didn't mean that he didn't _learn _through repeated failure_. _

"That is… astute, Mister Marek. I hadn't considered that aspect before," Vandyck said, processing his reasoning. "What do you propose, then?"

"If you don't mind, Principal Vandyck, I would like to try something that might help," he said, although with some uncertainty. "I'm not sure if it will work, but I can try being their opponent."

"Please. After what I've heard about your exploits in Heimdallr, I'm curious to see your skills in action myself."

With that, he stepped forward to join the class and Rean trailed behind him. Vandyck clapped his hands loudly, and all fighting drew to a close as they turned toward the interruption.

"Hey Vandyck!" Sara greeted, not at all showing any signs of having been sparring with Elise. "I see you've brought Galen with you, too!"

"Principal Vandyck," several of the students greeted much more respectfully.

"I apologise for the interruption to your lesson, Instructor Valestein; class VII," Vandyck began. "Mister Marek and I have been observing you all in action. I would like to offer my praises at your progress. You have all accomplished much over the past four months."

"T- thank you!"

"You're too kind, sir!" Some of the students seemed abashed at being praised by the principal.

"Sheesh, any more and you'll spoil the kids," Sara said cheekily. "I'm guessing there's more to this, Vandyck?"

"Mister Marek has a most interesting proposal," he gestured toward Rean, and he took it as a sign to step forward. "I would like to ask if Laura Arseid and Fie Claussell would be willing to face off against him in place of Alisa Reinford and Jusis Albarea."

"Us?" Two voices asked in unison, momentarily surprised.

"Um, I'm not sure if –" Machias, bless his soul, tried to intervene, but Sara cut in before he could.

"Oi! What'd I tell you about preying on my students?" Sara mock-snapped. Then, she grinned, walking off to join the rest of the class by the sidelines before he could even retort. "Go ahead. I'm interested in seeing what's got my lovely students so worked up back in Heimdallr, anyway."

With that decided, the students and staff cleared the field, leaving only Laura and Fie within. Rean placed one of his vibroblades on the ground by the sidelines with the observing students, before moving to join the pair in the centre.

All around, he could sense curiosity, uncertainty and _anticipation_ radiating from the students. No doubt they had been aware of how their classmates' lack of coordination was harming their class as a whole. There was a dim hope within that Rean could pull off a miracle here.

Well, he hoped he wouldn't disappoint.

Laura and Fie already had their weapons at the ready. The former first bowed respectfully once Rean entered his position on the field. "It's my pleasure to face you in combat, Galen. I look forward to learning from you."

"Likewise."

"Laura Arseid, of the Arseid School of Swordsmanship." She introduced herself formally, then took on a stance, hilt held low with both hands, with the blade angled diagonally upward. A perfect balance of offense and defense.

"Galen Marek. This form is known as Soresu." Rean fell into a stance of his own, the blade in his right hand, held parallel to the ground, pointing forward at eye level. His left hand was extended forward, with the weight of his body focused on his right foot planted firmly behind his left. It was the classic opening position of the Resilience Form, and he had emulated it from studying PROXY's imitation of its foremost master, the legendary Obi-Wan Kenobi who had revolutionised the form.

If she was surprised that the form was vastly different from what he'd shown in Heimdallr, she didn't offer any comment. He turned slightly toward Fie, waiting for her input.

"…Fie Claussell."

With that, she launched her attack.

Time to demonstrate why Soresu was _the _ultimate defensive form.

The first volley of bullets was deflected easily, no different from blocking blaster fire as PROXY had drilled him to do. Laura tried to capitalise on the opening, but he simply stepped aside, keeping his blade close to his body to parry and follow-ups.

_Tight movements and full control over the blade_. That was the core of Soresu. It had next to no offensive abilities beyond seizing on an enemy overextending, and was thus disfavoured among some practitioners of the lightsaber, but in this battle it served its purpose.

Laura and Fie could freely attack him, while he fended off their assault with minimal movement and a near impenetrable guard. It gave them the opportunity they needed to find a rhythm in combat, without being overly artificial.

He fell into the rhythm of things, moving and blocking, only striking when it was obvious that he had the opportunity to do so without risking counterattack. It was the philosophy of Form III, wearing out an opponent until they finally broke or until reinforcements arrived.

As he did so, he could feel the nascent Force bond between the pair vibrate and oscillate as they fought. It was evolving; surging and waning in tandem with them. With each coordinated assault, it strengthened, and with each interference on the other's part, it diminished slightly. Its presence could let him read their movements to guide his own form, but more than that, it gave him the chance to assist beyond merely being a target.

With that, he pushed his _own _presence within the Force into their developing bond, guiding and assisting it to become nurtured. It was a very limited form of the Force ability known as battle meditation, that had in the past allowed for the linking and coordination of entire fleets of flagships as a single entity in battle. He couldn't replicate that power on quite so grand a scale, but he could at least attempt to synchronise the chaotic waves in the Force that flowed out of phase with one another within them.

He simply let go, and allowed the Force to guide him in a way that best allowed their coordination to flourish.


	7. Chapter 7

**In case you missed the message at the start of Chapter 3... this is the last of the chapters I had written in a backlog, and just left there lying around while working on other stuff. I probably won't continue working on this for quite some time, at least until Cold Steel 3 comes out on PC or if I ever get more free time to work through the Sky games.**

**Hopefully, it has been at least slightly entertaining so far.**

* * *

"Hey," Elliot was the first to say when Galen, Laura and Fie had begun their duel. "Isn't Galen fighting differently from back in Heimdallr?"

"Yeah," Elise said, frowning. "It's a very defensive form."

Elise hadn't quite been able to clearly see his movements back then, having been injured by the dragon, but she'd been aware of him literally running circles around their enemies back then. In their morning spar (if she could even call it that), he used a style that balanced offense and defense in moderation.

Now, though, he seemed almost planted in the ground, only moving where it was necessary. His sword was always held tight and close against his body, never overextending, catching Laura's greatsword and diverting it aside time and time again where he didn't dodge. Fie's attacks didn't fare any better, since he was able to somehow _knock bullets out of mid-air_ and step just barely aside from every thrust or sweep of her weapons.

It went on for close to five minutes, and even though he never struck a blow of his own, Galen seemed to be in complete control of the fight. He offered his own ripostes here and there, but _only _when it was clear that an opening was available right after one of his opponents launched their strikes.

"Look at his feet," Gaius said suddenly. "It's incredible."

"Yeah," Jusis said, frowning. "I noticed as well."

Elise looked to see what had caught their attention. For a moment, she wondered what they were talking about, when it suddenly dawned on her.

_Holy – _

"What is it?" Alisa asked, curious.

"He hasn't moved at all from his initial spot," Elise said, voicing her observations. Beside her, Alisa focused on studying his footwork. "He dodges, but keeps to the same general territory. It's almost like a box-step, only moving the bare distance needed."

"Exactly," Gaius said, not taking his eyes off the fight. "It's economy of movement, pure and simple, only taken to the extreme."

"Court fencing has a similar emphasis on footwork, but this is completely different," Jusis added his own contribution. "My style focuses on destabilising an opponent, advancing and retreating, while his is entirely used for defense."

"Some forms of the Eight Leaves also focus on counterattacks, but this takes it to another level," Elise added, carefully studying Galen's movements. "He's not attacking at all unless he's completely certain of an opening."

"You're all able to see that from just five minutes?" Elliot sounded awed.

"Ignore our resident swordsmen and swordswoman, Elliot," Instructor Sara butted in. "They've got an unhealthy obsession with swordsmanship."

Elise was about to retort that _she _was studying his form just as much as they were, when something else caught their collective attention.

_What?_

"Um," Emma voiced. "Is anyone else seeing this?"

"Yeah," Machias added dumbly, just as flabbergasted. "What? How?"

For not only was the combat link between Fie and Laura suddenly rekindled with a faint green light, their ARCUS units resonating and glowing the same shade of green, but there was now _also _a very dim glow coming from Galen, neatly intersecting with their link.

He didn't even have an ARCUS. The light was coming from where his heart would be, but none of the combatants seemed aware of the fact.

"Is that a combat link?" Elise finally asked what everyone was thinking.

"It can't be," Machias replied immediately. "He doesn't have an ARCUS."

"What else _can _it be?" Jusis snapped.

For once, Machias didn't rise up to his rival's provocation, lost for words, trying like the rest of them to make sense of the impossible phenomenon they were all being witness to.

"But a three-way combat link? Is that even possible?" Elise spoke.

"Wait. Look at Laura and Fie," Gaius insisted.

As one, they did so. Their movements seemed different from before. They felt re-energised, Galen having to move his blade and feet faster now, the circle of territory with which he'd been constraining himself within expanding outward. It seems almost as though –

"They're making use of each other's openings to press the attack," she said. "Their combat link – it's working!"

Her enthusiasm and surprise were shared by the rest. "Go Laura! Go Fie!" They began cheering their classmates on.

The pair was lost in the battle, their cheers not having reached their ears. She knew that feeling well, having entered that state of mind many times in the past when caught in the thrill of battle. She knew that right there and then, all that mattered to them was finding a way to overcome Galen Marek's defenses.

"Sara," Principal Vandyck said suddenly. After having been silent for so long, she'd almost forgotten of his presence. "About Olivert's proposal…"

_Proposal?_

"Yeah, I know," Sara said, just as enthralled as they were in the fight. "I had my doubts at first, but now I'm a bit more inclined to agree."

"If so, then shall I suggest the idea to him after this is concluded?"

"Not yet," Sara insisted. "I want to test his skills myself."

"You want to fight with Galen?" Elliot blurted out. Both Sara and Principal Vandyck turned toward him, and he flushed in embarrassment, having spoken out of turn.

"What proposal is this, anyway?" Emma asked, curious.

"You'll figure out soon enough; don't worry," Sara said, patting her head. "Anyway, once he's done with Laura and Fie –"

"Now!"

"Right!"

That sudden outburst from Fie caught their attention, and they looked back at the fight. They were just in time to catch Fie throwing some objects in the air, Laura's body tensed and poised to strike, staring hard at the ground with her massive greatsword at the ready –

_Flash grenades. _Hurriedly, she closed her eyes and covered her ears, and several of her classmates reacted similarly. Sara and Vandyck had already been ready for that attack.

A burst of light and sound temporarily left her dazed even with that, and once her vision cleared she immediately turned back to see the outcome of the fight. Through blurred vision, she could just barely catch a figure wielding a massive greatsword charging toward a shadowy form in the centre, Fie approaching rapidly from the other side in a pincer movement, from a different angle to where she had been previously.

They were about to strike simultaneously, when Galen suddenly stepped aside, dodging Laura's strike while _precisely _knocking Fie's gun-knives out of her hands with a single blow, without actually injuring her in the process.

In the next instant, he kicked Laura to the ground where she had overcommitted in her swing, believing him incapable of dodging the strike he shouldn't have seen coming, and powerfully pinned down her fallen body with his own weight while holding his sword to her throat.

The fight was over.

"Good attempt," he said with that strangely distorted voice of his. "You almost got me."

How did he see them through Fie's flash grenade? He should have been blinded and deafened; there was no way he could have predicted their attacks.

"How?" Fie asked mutely, not yet picking up her fallen blades. "I was sure that my grenades would catch you –"

"It was a perfect execution, Fie. I _was _blinded," he said, a hint of humour entering his otherwise emotionless voice. "Against anyone else, you and Laura would have won. Your only mistake was falsely believing I needed _eyes_ to sense you."

"Amazing…" Laura breathed heavily on the ground, movements restrained. "I was sure that our last hits would have landed…"

Elise's eyes widened. She could sense presences, of course, much like any swordsman with a fair amount of training under their belt, but to actively use it in the midst of combat was something else entirely. Whoever Galen Marek was, he was in a whole other league from her.

"Incredible…" Machias said, awed.

"Indeed." For the second time, Jusis agreed with his rival. Would wonders never cease? What was it with Galen, that he could make such impossibilities happen?

"How did you make the combat link?" Elliot suddenly asked Galen, and the three fighters became aware of their audience.

"What's a combat link?"

_He made a combat link without knowing what it was?!_

Elliot didn't reply, probably just as shocked as Elise was. Principal Vandyck spoke on their behalf instead. "I'm very impressed, Mister Marek. Your method seems to have worked."

"You're a real miracle maker, huh Galen?" Sara commented. "First in Heimdallr, then fixing up these two's mess of a relationship, and now a combat link without an ARCUS…"

She paused for a moment. Elise looked at her instructor, and saw a devilish grin just beginning to form on her face.

_Uh oh._

"…still, though, do you really have to make advances on every one of my students?"

She gestured deliberately toward the position that Galen and Laura were occupying, him sitting on top of her abdomen, preventing her movements while still holding his sword to her throat.

It was funny seeing the imposing helmeted and armoured figure practically jerk away from Laura, standing some distance away. Her classmate was hurriedly pushing herself to her feet now, face slightly red, although she would no doubt claim it to be the result of the aftermath of battle.

"I can assure you, Instructor Sara, that was not my intention," Galen hurriedly explained.

Was it her imagination, or did he sound flustered? Ah, how she wished he would remove that helmet of his so they could all see his reaction.

"Ah, but you have already robbed my student of her innocence," Sara tutted in disapproval. She drew her pistol and sword, declaring theatrically, "Prepare yourself, Galen Marek! I must fight for my student's honour!"

"Instructor, there's no need –" Laura tried to say.

"Ah, but look! Your wily ways have already charmed my poor student!" She turned to face the still-flushed swordswoman. "Stand aside, Laura. Your lovely instructor will handle this miscreant."

"But –" She seemed to make a careful consideration between attempting to defuse the situation and endure more of Sara's teasing or simply letting Sara do as she pleased, before finally acquiescing. She strode over to the rest of them, Fie joining her midway.

"Good work, guys," Elise praised as they drew near. Off in the field, Galen was still trying to dissuade Sara from their duel; a lost cause. "You two really made it work, huh?"

"Thanks, Elise," Laura spoke first. Then, she turned to face Fie. "You did really well, Fie. I felt like I understood you back there."

"Me too," she agreed. Then, without hesitation, she returned the compliment, "You're _really _good."

The rest of her classmates looked on with fond amusement. After so long, they seemed to have finally put all that awkwardness behind them.

"Think he can talk his way out of this one?" Elliot gestured at Galen.

"Unlikely," Gaius spoke. "Instructor Sara's already decided before their battle ended that she would fight Galen on her own."

"How did that happen?" Laura asked, alarmed. "What did we miss?"

"Do not worry, Miss Arseid," Principal Vandyck cut in once more, startling her. "I believe that Instructor Valestein simply intends to test Mister Marek's skills for herself."

"Why, though?" Emma asked. "You mentioned a proposal –"

Again, the question was interrupted before he could properly answer. Sara had fired a shot toward Galen, the man somehow dodging the bullet despite the speed it was travelling at, and the battle was on.

"Here we go," Fie commented.

"Who do you think will win?" Elliot asked.

"Don't know." Fie shrugged. "Galen doesn't seem to want to fight back, though."

Sure enough, he was dodging Sara's attacks, her instructor laughing gleefully as she forced him to move this way and that.

"Come on then, big guy! Show me what you've got!"

"Can't we talk things through –"

"Finding excuses after violating my student? No can do, Galen-boy!"

Sara began ramping up her pace, firing bursts of lightning from her pistol between swipes of her sword. Galen was caught by some of them, unable to dodge at the speed she struck, and Elise saw some singe marks on what was exposed of his skin in the aftermath of where he'd been struck.

"_Kriffing damn it_!" Galen swore – she thought it was a swear word, at least – and somehow pulled the sword lying abandoned on the ground next to her into his waiting hand, flipping both blades into the reverse-grip he'd employed back in the underground catacombs.

"That craft again…" Elise voiced her thoughts. "And he's using the same form as back then, now…"

"A craft?" Emma mused. "But that's…"

She trailed off. In any other situation, Elise would have questioned her on what she saw, but her attention was fully focused on the fight unfolding before her eyes.

From the purely defensive style that emphasised minimal, tight movements from earlier, Galen was now a blur of motion, darting and leaping around the battlefield. His blades were constantly in motion, intercepting bullets and bolts of lightning, all while attempting to disarm Sara.

Emphasis being _disarm. _Even now, he was still trying to dissuade Sara from fighting.

"Come on, Sara, it was really an accident –"

"Shut up and fight!" Sara laughed. "Live a little!"

They were both blurs on the battlefield now, and soon Elise wasn't able to keep track of them any longer. Her sword flashed around, coated with purple lightning, bolts flying from all angles toward a target that was just as elusive.

"So that's the Purple Lightning…" she muttered under her breath. She could see why the instructor was an A-ranked Bracer now, despite her young age.

Still, her opponent was no slouch. Now resigned to the battle, Galen was beginning to land attacks of his own, moving his swords in complicated patterns in both the orthodox and reverse grips.

"He's ambidextrous," Laura commented. "He's seems to be switching between forms with each sword, and even letting go of them and switching the way he holds the hilt."

"You can _see _all that?" Elliot asked, shocked.

"Just barely," she admitted. "Even with different forms, he transitions so smoothly that it's all a blur to me. I can only classify his movements as offense and defense."

"Very astute observations, Miss Arseid," Principal Vandyck said, not looking away from the twin blurs, perfectly tracking their movements. "I daresay that our friend here has trained extensively with this dual-bladed form of combat."

"You can see them, Principal Vandyck?" Laura queried respectfully.

"My military days may be over, but I can assure you that this old dog still has some teeth." He chuckled. "Besides, I highly suspect that they both still haven't shown us the full depth of their abilities."

"_This _is them holding back?" Elise blurted out. Come to think of it, she hadn't ever truly seen Sara go all out in combat.

"I know at least Sara is," Fie mentioned offhandedly, tracking her as they fought.

"Now I feel silly for accepting her challenge back before our field trip," Machias spoke to Jusis and Elise. "We really stood no chance against her, huh?"

"Yup," Elise confirmed. Even Jusis had to agree with that.

"He's ramping up the pace now," Principal Vandyck spoke for their benefit. "Another few exchanges and – yes, here it comes…"

She saw, as though in slow motion, how he raised one of his swords to parry against Sara's own, utilising the reverse-grip to backhand it away as his body rotated. In that same instant, Sara attempted to fire her pistol at him, but his other blade was now coming into the picture, striking at her weapon from the side and sending its projectile off target.

His rotation continued, and Sara was wide open now. His leg shot out, as his body bent over, kicking Sara squarely in the abdomen before disengaging quickly, raising his guard once more.

"Good one," Sara complimented, resetting her stance. "Let's say we take off the kids' gloves, hmm?"

Galen sighed audibly, at least some irritation in his voice, but mixed with excitement that broke the emotionless mask it had been before. "There's really no convincing you to let this go, huh?"

"And let you make me look bad in front of my students? Never!"

With that final word, she dashed toward him faster than before as the purple lightning of her namesake trailed behind and in front of her, the thrum of electricity echoing through the air. He leapt to try and avoid her strike, but Sara was already fast in pursuit, a wide grin on her face.

"Isn't she getting a little too into this?" Elliot asked hesitantly. "I'm _preeetty_ sure any of us would have severe injuries at the very least if hit by those."

"Yeah, we'd probably die." Heads turned toward Fie at that blunt admission. "What?"

"I can assure you, Mister Craig, Sara has this under control," Principal Vandyck spoke. Coincidentally, a stray bolt of lightning struck the ground just several meters in front of them, and they collectively took a few steps back in surprise. "Or at least I think so."

"He's really not making it easy for her, huh?" Gaius said, smiling faintly as he admired their duel. "He's moving all over the place, as though carried by the wind. Kind of like you, actually."

He addressed Fie with that last statement. Come to think of it, there was some similarity in the principle behind that agile form and how Fie fought, but…

"He used a completely different form against Laura and Fie, and when we sparred earlier today his form was something else entirely as well," Elise spoke aloud. "Does he know that many forms?"

"You sparred today?" Laura asked, sounding surprised. "When?"

"Before class. It's why I was late." It has only been when she entered the classroom that she remembered that _Sara_ was the one taking their first lesson of the day, and that she really hadn't needed to rush.

"What sort of form was it?" Laura probed.

"It was similar to Gale, of the Eight Leaves. If I had to describe it, it's in between what he used in the fight with you two and what he's doing now."

"So, he knows both single and double sword variants, spanning a full spectrum of offense and defense," Jusis mused. "How terrifyingly bizarre."

That was true. Most experts took to focusing on a single aspect of swordsmanship, but it was almost as though his time had been spent earnestly practicing through all the forms he'd showed. Sure, he was clearly more comfortable with this two-swords variant, but even then such mastery had to have taken a very long time to be earned.

Just how long did he have to train each day and for how many years had he been practicing to reach that level? She felt strangely small compared to them both. Even with how much she had trained in the Eight Leaves, she hadn't fully committed herself to improving her skills.

Again and again they clashed. Finally, after numerous blows had been exchanged, Galen demonstrated the technique he had made use of when facing Elise in their morning spar, sending what appeared to be a wave of energy in the wake of his swing. Sara was caught squarely by it, and was forced to disengage again, clutching a hand to her belly.

"You've been holding back."

"So were you."

A new respect Elise hasn't seen from her instructor burned in Sara's eyes. She took a few more steps back, before unleashing her energy as all master swordsman could do, the air around her sparking with energy.

"What an outpouring of mana…" Emma murmured.

"What say you we settle this, hmm?" Sara crossed her weapons, bracing herself. "I'll show you why they call me the Purple Lightning!"

She leapt up high into the air, a trail of energy left behind in her wake. For several moments, she seemed to hover in the air, a brilliant sun that flared with electricity, then –

"Get behind me!" Principal Vandyck barked. "Now!"

She did as she was told, sensing the sheer overwhelming amount of energy contained in her attack. Her classmates did likewise, and the principal steadied himself, spreading his feet apart in preparation for the attack.

Galen, meanwhile, was simply standing there, considering his options. Elise knew he couldn't dodge – both because there was no way he could possibly outrun Sara's lightning, and because doing so could possibly put the students at risk.

But he couldn't possibly just weather Sara's assault either –

"PLASMA STORM!"

From midair, she launched countless bolts of lightning toward her target, who still hadn't moved. As the first bolts struck, waves of energy spread outward, the wind blowing against Elise forcefully, so much so that it was difficult even maintaining her footing. At the epicenter of where her attack landed, Elise couldn't see through the dense sphere of sparks and lights to identify how Galen was doing.

"Isn't this a bit too much?" Elliot had to shout to let his words be heard through the screech of electricity. "She's not stopping either –"

Sure enough, as she landed, she continued releasing even more lightning toward Galen, waves of lightning from her sword and bolts from her gun coursing toward the impenetrable sphere of light.

"We need to stop her!" Emma urged. "She's going to kill him!"

Machias was already about to move forward, bracing himself against the unrelenting waves of wind that billowed toward them, when Vandyck held an arm out.

"WAIT!" he ordered. "He's still fighting."

"What?!"

"I can't see him, but I can _sense _him. Whatever his plan is, he knows what he's doing. Besides, Sara's stopped now. All we can do is wait."

Indeed, her instructor was just standing there, breathing heavily, her eyes squinted as she stared at the mess of sparks and light that was just slowly dissipating. Elise thought she saw a brief look of horror and guilt when the effects of her attack continued, showing no signs of stopping.

"Principal Vandyck?" Laura asked hesitantly.

"We can't do anything now, even if we want to." Even he sounded uncertain. "Let's hope he can pull through that assault. Mister Regnitz, please hurry and send for Instructor Beatrix."

Immediately, Machias took his leave, running back to the main complex. The rest looked on worriedly, watching powerlessly from the sidelines as the storm raged on.

Elise hoped Galen would find a way out of this. She _really _didn't want to be a witness to a murder on the school grounds, committed by one of her instructors on someone who had saved her and her classmates' lives.

"Wait! Look there!"

Laura's words broke her out of her dark thoughts. She squinted, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

The sparks weren't showing signs of disappearing, but their intensity was decreasing, or…

_No. Not decreasing._

They were being _focused_. Focused, and condensed.

For in the middle of the storm, there was now only the kneeling figure of Galen Marek. Both his swords lay abandoned on the ground, twin orbs of energy held in his raised and outstretched palms, as lightning arced all around his body; up and down his arms, across his torso, even sparking out of his _eyes. _

"What?"

-o-o-o-

As he stared up at Sara, he knew that he would barely have moments to act. The Force was swirling and building up within her, lightning dancing all around, and he would need to soon make a choice.

He could attempt to dodge, but the speed of the next attack would be a whole order of magnitude faster than what she'd already shown. Agile though he may be, even he couldn't outrun lightning.

Blocking was an option, but even if he used a lightsaber he couldn't fully withstand her attack. With how much power was being poured into her, some stray streaks of lightning would doubtlessly find their way toward him.

It left one final option. _Tutaminis._

It was the art of energy absorption, using the Force to block or even outright convert energy that was the Force's essence made manifest. He'd been told that all Jedi younglings were introduced to that Force power early on in their training, and Starkiller had made no exception with him.

Back on Kamino, he had apparently been able to divert the energy of overloaded power cells and natural lightning strikes toward Darth Vader, overwhelming the Sith Lord. The original Galen Marek had withstood Darth Sidious' malevolent Force Lightning, buying time for his allies to escape at the cost of his own life.

This wasn't quite at the same level. Sara's lightning, while stemming from the Force, was not true Sith lightning that struck at body and mind both. Hers seemed to simply be energy given form, burning and jolting where it struck.

It meant that he had a chance of withstanding against what he hoped was the final attack. Tutaminis hadn't been one of his strengths the same way that Starkiller had mastered the technique, but he did at least train to absorb the energy of blaster bolts after being subject to PROXY's unique brand of training. There were even few occasions where, left with no other choice, he had desperately used his own hand to block against lightsaber strikes from PROXY, each time wondering if he would finally be losing a limb.

Hopefully the Force would see him through once again. He dropped both his vibroblades, firmly embedding in the ground below, and held both palms outward as the first of Sara's lightning reached him.

_What power! _It was more than just energy; there was an unbridled passion within, a manifestation of everything that was _Sara Valestein_. He rushed to contain it, willing a barrier of Force to form around the attack, wrapping and condensing the energy that was being delivered solely toward him. He was pushed down by the sheer force being exerted on him, kneeling hard against the ground while both hands were at work holding back against her assault.

_Focus. Shape the barrier. Reinforce its walls._ Never before had he been this glad that PROXY had made Force training a mandatory part of his daily routine.

It was almost overwhelming. Energy was rushing all around, and it was all he could do simply to hold it in place. How legendary Jedi were able to ever convert the raw energy of blaster bolts and even Sith lightning into healing powers, he would never know.

He stood there, gathering what energy he could from what was being dispersed around him. He was dimly aware that everything in his body stung, both from exhaustion and from the stray hits Sara had left in their earlier exchanges. They didn't matter now. All that mattered was the twin orbs of energy in his hands, glowing like miniature suns.

At last, Sara's assault was over. Now all he needed to do was continue to guide the last remnants of her attack into his condensed sphere.

_Passion. Thrill. Excitement_. Concepts that were not a part of him invaded his psyche, the will that was the foundation of Sara's attacks being incorporated into him. _Strike her down. Unleash your energy._

The air was clearing now. He had a clear shot to Sara. She was staring blankly at him, an expression of mixed worry and surprise on her face. He extended a palm toward her. Purple lightning arced around the orb –

_What am I doing?!_

This was _not _him. This was Sara's passion. He needed to convert it, to subdue and redirect –

"_RARRGHH!"_

With a primal cry, he held both palms upward, purple transitioning into blue, as the energy of her assault was subverted into his own variant of lightning, twin bursts shooting up into the sky. The air itself was ionised, burned by the energy left in the wake of his converted and redirected attack. Residual sparks of lightning arced around his body, before gradually fading.

He panted, inspecting his hands. They were charred, blackened, and now that he had time to _think_, they most definitely _hurt._ He _really_ needed to brush up on his Tutaminis.

Still, though…

He thought back to the feeling from just moments earlier. It was so similar to the mindset he fell into in his limited experience of Juyo, that of overwhelming passion that struggled to be contained, only it was his opponent's emotion that was being fed into him. It was a loop, redirecting energy of his foe toward herself. In fact…

…was this the secret to Vaapad? Was this how Mace Windu could utilise the form so perfectly, while never falling thrall to the Dark Side?

How frighteningly powerful he had to be, in order to master his will that much. If even Sara, whose attack had simply been passion made manifest, had almost overwhelmed him, he dreaded to think what it must have felt like to draw upon the emotions and passion of a true Sith. The Jedi Master must have had the discipline of durasteel and a truly unbreakable will.

The last remnants of Sara's attack was fading now, and with it his sight and vision was finally reappearing –

"GALEN!" He was aware of someone shouting. Firm hands grabbed at his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, I overdid it – are you alright?"

He needed another few moments to regain his bearings before he could speak. It felt like his entire system had been overloaded by that attack, and he needed to remember what it meant to be Rean Schwarzer, rather than Sara Valestein.

"Let's call it a draw?" he said humourlessly, pushing himself to stand on his feet.

"What the –" she hissed. "Your hands!"

She snatched them away from his side, grasping his wrists gingerly with each hand, wincing. "Oh, Aidios, I'm so sorry. I got carried away; Elliot, Emma –"

"Relax," he said calmly. It stung, but he'd dealt with worse injuries and lived before, courtesy of PROXY's methods. Funnily enough, this reminded him of that time when he first duelled and bested PROXY's Darth Maul module, during his first introduction to Juyo. He'd been so aghast back then, worrying that he'd almost killed his instructor, while all PROXY had expressed was mild amusement. He could see why, now.

He closed his eyes, calming himself, letting the energies of the Living Force suffuse his hands and return them to functionality. A cooling, cleansing sensation washed over them, and slowly burnt flesh began to regenerate and knit together. Surprised, she let go of his hands.

Experimentally, he moved his wrists, and finding that it was remarkably less painful than it had been, began to touch each finger to his thumbs in turn. Not quite back to normal, but it was good enough.

"Good as new," he confirmed. "See?"

"I'll be the judge of that," a stern woman brusquely said. "Stay still, young man."

"Beatrix!" Sara said, stiffening. "You're –"

"And what in Aidios' name ever made you think that releasing a storm in school grounds was an excellent idea? I could practically feel the din you were making from the infirmary!" 'Beatrix' snapped. "Honestly, Sara, I've told you countless times to curb your enthusiasm! It's a miracle I'm not looking at a corpse right now!"

Was it just his imagination, or did Sara actually look _ashamed_ when scolded by the elderly lady?

"Hands." She had shifted her attention away from Sara, dismissing her entirely and focusing only on Rean.

"There's really no need –"

"Stop being so stubborn," she scoffed, then forcefully took his wrists, leaning in close to look at his palms. For someone who he assumed was a nurse, she had a _ridiculously _strong grip. He gave up on his protests, letting Beatrix examine his palms thoroughly.

Again, he was meeting yet another mysterious person whose abilities didn't quite fit their profile. It seemed to be starting to become a running theme.

"I'm sorry, Galen, it won't happen again," Sara apologised worriedly. This was an altogether different side of Sara from what she'd shown thus far, that it was almost difficult to reconcile her with the woman who seemed to stop at nothing to annoy him over the past day.

"On the contrary, Sara, I hope to challenge you again. I'velearnt a lot from our duel."

He meant it. If this truly was the secret to Vaapad, or at the very least a means for him to begin training to harness and control the essence of passion in combat for his own use in Juyo, then he would need to continue sparring against her. Tutaminis felt like an excellent means of both Force training and improving his understanding of Form VII.

"You _want_ to do that again?" It wasn't just Sara who said that now; some of the students of class VII who had been spectating their battle seemed to think him crazy for even thinking that.

Well, after all the insane Erebonians he'd met, it seemed like he was shaping up to become one himself, too.

"I've had a bit of an epiphany regarding a form that I've been struggling to learn for several years now," he admitted. "What I did back there to absorb and redirect your lightning is a craft called Tutaminis. I believe that further practice would improve my skills with that form."

"_Tutaminis_, huh? Some Eastern style of combat?" Sara repeated. Now that he seemed to show no signs of having been severely injured in the light of her final reckless attack, her worry had been steadily decreasing. She shook her head in disbelief. "You're a real madman, aren't you, Galen?"

"Are you really the one who should be saying that?" He gestured dryly at the devastation the battle had caused. Parts of the field were charred or simply burnt to ash, the results of errant lightning bolts that had either been off-target or dodged by him. "_You?"_

To her credit, she looked mildly chagrined at that, especially when Beatrix had taken a moment to glare at her younger colleague. She returned to her normal self soon enough, though, thumping him hard on the back. He hissed at the spike of pain that action brought. He hadn't yet been fully healed of all the many injuries he'd sustained during their battle.

"Ah! Sorry!" She grinned sheepishly. "Still, though, if we're going to be colleagues, I supposed we'll be seeing much of each other, huh?"

..._what?_

"Um. What?"

His sentiment was echoed by the students, alternating between staring at her and himself. Principal Vandyck sighed heavily, running a palm across the side of his face.

"...oh, right. Vandyck hasn't mentioned it to you yet. Uhh..." Sara looked around awkwardly. "Any chance you could forget what I just said?"

"...no?"

"I suppose now is a good a time as any," Vandyck said tiredly, as though used to Sara's antics. He looked levelly at Rean, his face entirely serious, and the sight of the formidable general forced him to straighten his own posture. "I believe I mentioned that Olivert had a proposal in mind for your arrangements with the academy. Simply put, he has requested for you to join as one of our combat instructors."

"What?" he repeated once more.

"What?" the students echoed, their tones ranging from surprise and shock to ones of excitement.

_Him, a combat instructor?_

Him?

PROXY would have a field day. '_Apprentice thinks he's the master now, does he_?' the droid would say. '_We'll see about that when this lightsaber is shoved deep up your -'_

He erased that mental conversation with his imaginary instructor. He didn't need that image right now.

But still...

"A combat instructor?" he asked numbly. "Are you _sure?"_

It wasn't that he didn't want the position. At first glance, he could already see how it would be to his benefit. He could have an excuse to watch over Elise and protect his sister, while still making use of the facilities at Trista to advance his own research and figure out what the kriff he should be doing.

The problem was that he didn't _know_ how to properly instruct others. His own experience amounted to being subject to PROXY's grueling training regime, that he quite frankly only endured through long hours of meditation that cultivated a great deal of patience. Besides, his skill with the lightsaber was hardly anywhere near his master's level. To be offered such a position felt...

...well, it felt like he didn't _deserve_ it. Thors was the finest institution Erebonia had to offer.

"I had my reservations initially, but after seeing you in combat, I no longer have any doubt that you will do well in this position," Vandyck told him. "In just one spar, you helped Miss Claussell and Miss Arseid settle their differences where months of lessons have failed. Beyond that, you demonstrated that your skills live up to the praises of our students, being able to match Instructor Valestein in combat."

He felt strangely warm at that compliment, and dare he say it, a little embarrassed. Vandyck was practically a living legend. To hear such praises...

"I'm not worthy," he insisted. "I'm not sure if I can live up to your expectations."

"At any rate, you can help with the swordsmanship of some of our students," Sara readily interjected, sensing his wavering resolve. "I can teach them _combat_, but the finer aspects of their individual forms aren't something I have all that much experience with. I'm good with my weapons, but I can't hope to match you with purely just a sword in my hands. And all joking aside, I know that Elise, Laura and Fie have already gained some insights through sparring with you."

"That's true," his sister said, smiling respectfully at him. Damn. She knew just the right buttons to push; that alone was making him consider accepting the offer. "Our styles aren't the same, but our spar has given me some ideas to push my development along."

"Indeed," Laura added. "I do hope to cross swords with you again, whether or not you accept the offer."

Fie shrugged. "Ehhh, Sara's going to convince you either way, so you might as well just give up now."

"Are _all _of you really okay with this?" He asked the rest for their input. It wasn't just them they would be teaching, after all. "You especially, Jusis. I only exclusively use swords, so if I take up this position, I'll probably only be able to properly help the four of you in training."

"I welcome any advice you can offer, Galen Marek," Jusis said formally. "You already demonstrate a wide proficiency in your forms of swordplay."

The rest were offering their own support and encouragement. He still had much doubt about this plan, but Starkiller did always say to seize his own destiny, right?

"If you're all certain..." He looked at Vandyck, and nodded. "I accept."

"Excellent!" he boomed. "I'll meet you and Sara later to sort out arrangements, as well as introduce you to the rest of the faculty that you haven't met yet. For now, though, I believe that Instructor Beatrix has some words she would like to say."

_Oh, crap. _He'd forgotten about the nurse. Hesitantly, he looked toward her, and her expression was unreadable.

"You aren't _seriously_ injured," she reluctantly accepted. "Frankly speaking, how you managed that with Sara's recklessness is a miracle. Still, you've got burns and cuts all over your body, and don't think I didn't notice how you flinched when Sara touched you earlier."

"I didn't -"

Suddenly, she clapped him on the shoulder, hard, and once more he reflexively jolted upright as a sting of pain shot through him.

"My point exactly," she said smugly. "For the love of Aidios, stop putting up such a hard front. You're coming to the infirmary for a full inspection."

"Ooh la la – " Sara began whistling, but was shut down immediately by Beatrix.

"You're not off the hook either, Sara." Beatrix glared at her. "You two – infirmary, immediately."

_Wait. A full inspection would mean -_

"Wait, Beatrix, I don't -"

The look she shot at him killed the words before they even left his throat. PROXY would no doubt have loved to meet the woman, if only so he could learn such intimidation tactics for future use.

"For the Goddess' sake, I'm a _medic. _There's nothing I haven't seen before," she chided. "Come along, now."

_Wait, that wasn't even what he was worried about –_

She began walking toward the main building, not even letting him get a further word edgewise.

"Trust me, Galen, there's no arguing with Beatrix when she's in this mood," Sara advised. "She's the sweetest old lady you'll ever meet, but she takes treating anyone who's injured _very_ seriously."

"I concur. You really should hurry along, Mister Marek," Vandyck said, then corrected himself. "No - _Instructor _Marek."

"Come on, Galen! Your senior colleague will show you the way!" Sara skipped past him, waving him along. Left with no other choice, he followed behind her, thinking up any excuse he could to avoid revealing his identity under the helmet.

When they reached the infirmary, Beatrix set him down on one of the beds, then drew a privacy screen to look over Sara's injuries. He sat there uneasily, wondering what he should do to preserve his identity.

"They aren't too bad," he heard her comment. "More bruises than anything else."

"Galen was reluctant to attack me properly," Sara's voice came over, before she shouted at a volume that was far too loud, considering that he was in the bed just next over. "YOU HEAR THAT, GALEN? YOU BETTER FIGHT ME SERIOUSLY NEXT TIME!"

"And you still saw the need to use that craft of yours, Sara?" In his mind's eye, he could see Beatrix shaking her head disappointedly. He hoped Sara had the decency to at least be embarassed about that. He'd been reluctant to fight in the first place, damn it! "Please do exercise more caution, Sara."

"Will do, Beatrix!"

"Fine. You may go."

"Sweet! See you two later!" With that, he heard the sound of rapid footsteps, the door to the infirmary slamming shut moments later.

A few seconds later, Beatrix drew the privacy screen aside, moving to his bedside. "Alright, then. Please remove all articles of clothing up to your undergarments," she requested in a detached tone that bode no argument.

"About that, Instructor Beatrix..."

"There's no room for argument, Galen. Like it or not, you _are_ now a member of staff of this academy. As you will come to know, within this infirmary's walls, my word is law." She smiled grimly, then sighed. "I don't wish to be harsh with you, but it is my duty to ensure the well-being of those under my charge. Rest assured that everything discussed here will be kept strictly confidential."

He considered her words carefully. There wasn't really much room for him to argue, and if he thought about it more closely, there was no reason why she should be able to link his presence appearance to the Rean Schwarzer of old...

Still, no harm being careful. "You promise?"

"Of course. Now hurry up, young man. No need to be shy." She let some humour leak through, and he could see a bit of the 'kind old lady' that Sara had described her to be.

He sighed, and began removing the clothing he wore one by one. First came his bracers, then the armour on his shoulders, the tunic he wore, then his trousers. He hesitated for a moment, before finally removing his helmet slowly.

_Moment of truth._

"What the –" For a moment, the woman who seemingly couldn't be fazed by anything paused, unsure of what to say. He tensed. Did she suspect his true identity? If so, then -

"You're just a _boy_," she breathed softly. "How _old_ are you?"

He didn't reply immediately, trying to read her emotions through the Force. She was earnest, honest, and the moment he'd removed her helmet there had been shock, and then followed shortly after by a deep sense of sadness, for some reason. At no point did she seem to recognise who he was.

"This will be kept strictly confidential?" He needed confirmation once more, reading her emotions at the same time.

"It would be unprofessional of me not to do so," she affirmed.

Again, he paused, considering his options, but then decided to tell her the truth. "Seventeen."

"By the Goddess..." she said under her breath. "You're so _young_... What kind of training could you have gone through to develop such skills at your age?"

This was risky territory. He didn't want to have to explain that he'd been on the moon for several years, spending each day fully engrossed only on training that he may one day return. He most _definitely_ couldn't answer this question.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I understand, of course," she said immediately. "You can rest assured that no one else will know of this."

"Thank you," he said honestly. For some reason, he could see himself trusting her. He sensed no deception from her, only a desire to help others that had led her to her present career.

"Right, then." She continued on after a moment's silence. "On to your injuries."

She withdrew a device – an ARCUS? – and the quartz embedded within began to glow a brilliant blue, as she placed a hand on his body. He could feel the Force coursing through her, guided by the strange powers contained within the septium, flowing into him and suffusing him similar to the way his own Force Heal would normally do. Now, though, beyond simply enhancing his natural recovery, it invigorated him, accelerating his healing beyond what was natural. What injuries remained quickly closed up, burns and bruises fading away, and he felt more pain-free than he'd been in a long time.

Whatever it was that the art had done, it was certainly more potent than his own Force Heal or the bactaspray he'd been using early on in the _Rogue Shadow_.

"That should be the last of it," she said, after several casts of the art. Despite the effort it must have taken, she was only breathing just slightly heavily, speaking volumes of her experiences in the healing profession. "You can dress yourself now."

With a muted thanks, he began placing his clothing and equipment back on, taking extra care to secure his helmet. He was about to leave, when he was stopped by Beatrix.

"Wait," she said, and he stopped in his tracks. "I want to assure you again that your secret will be safe with me, Galen. You can trust me."

Again, there was only earnest honesty coming from her, alongside some kind of sorrow he couldn't quite fathom the reason for. He nodded.

"Thank you." With that, he gave a final curt bow, and left the infirmary. He still had several more objectives for the day – library, training, and figuring out what his new job at the academy would entail.

For someone who had experienced a Force vision, he most definitely didn't see this course of events coming. _Instructor Galen Marek,_ he tasted the words on his tongue once more. A far cry from Rean Schwarzer, a child dead for eight years, that was for certain.


End file.
